Vainglory
by kawaiisuzu
Summary: Winners write history. Losers make history. And Namikaze Minato, stuck somewhere in between, is Konoha's youngest missing nin. [Min x Kush, Alt. Universe]
1. Pursuit

**Fandom: Naruto**

**Rating: T (for teenage words and scenarios)**

**Author: k-suzu**

**Summary: Minato's on a mission to find a runaway concubine, but ends up towing an extremely pissed Whirlpool kunoichi back to Konoha instead. Kushina's holding Konoha's biggest secret hostage, but it's not the Kyuubi. It isn't fate… just bad luck. [Alternate Universe]**

**This is a spinoff story from Vainglory, my 3-shot. That's been taken off ff . net—I just had to write this story; the plot bunnies commanded it. Imagine Kushina if she had remained at Uzu/Whirlpool, if she was not brought to Konoha as a sacrifice, and if she had not grown up alongside Minato. From Kishimoto's own references to Kushina as spunky and mean to those she's wary of, but tender to those she loves-this is how I see her as a Whirlpool kunoichi. As I develop the storyline, more bits and pieces of history will be revealed. Thus, the italicized portions of the chapter are meant to be non-linear flashbacks that develop plot at the right moment.**

**Thank you for reading. Enjoy.**

* * *

**- Vainglory -**

01: Pursuit

* * *

_"The pursuit, even of the best things, ought to be calm and tranquil."_

_._

_Cicero_

* * *

He saw her tapping her foot to the beat, more out of impatience than an expression of musicality. Something inside may have skipped a beat when he realized just whom it was he was staring at (albeit rather secretively), but he wasn't a trained jounin for nothing. He hadn't pegged her to have any of the finer artistic talents of life, though. A wiser Namikaze Minato might have looked back on the judgmental bias of this statement, but he had more important things on his mind right then.

_One beat_

She was leaning against the wall of the crowded room, head to one side, with her eyes hooded by the flaming red of her hair. It came as partial surprise to see her in such a wallflower position.

_Two, three in succession_

After shrugging off a potential party hook up, he approached her, weaving through the congealed crowd with something one might call practice.

She looked up, as if sensing his purposeful movements. Minato silently cursed himself for not stopping by the refreshment stand, for failing to make a few more aimless weaves between the throng of party-goers and dancers. His bad move.

_A pause_

Her eyes were striking against the dim lighting of the room, even more striking against pale milky skin. Her usually pink lips, currently painted startling, flamboyant rouge, tugged at one end in a characteristic half-smirk. She tossed her flowing tresses (Minato had never previously thought this was a possible state of being for her previously short, unmanageable mane of hair) and approached, swaying her hips outrageously as her eyes gleamed with something between a predator's and a temptress' _look_.

Minato realized his mouth was dry when her pale, toned arms slid over his shoulders, around his neck. They were warm. Instinctively, he felt this pose was potentially dangerous to his safety. She could strangle, choke, or toss him by the neck if she willed it so. Somehow, against the better part of his judgment, he let her come closer until her red hair brushed the tip of his chin.

_Two beats. A successive drum line._

"…I could show you a good time…"

The voice was a low purr, but strangely loud enough for their immediate neighbors to hear. Minato was tempted for a split second to doubt her identity when a painfully thin spaghetti strap slid effortlessly down a soft shoulder, and she pressed her body closer, oh-so-close that he could feel the heat of her—oh _crap_, since when did she develop—breasts against his chest.

He put a hand to her back, feeling the heat emanating from her skin through the slinky material of her dress. Minato let his pointer finger trace the spirals of a _whirlpool _on the small of her back.

_Gotcha._

No response. He applauded her mentally when he didn't feel her heart so much as skip a beat.

Instead, she tilted her head up to touch her painted lips to his jaw line. He wondered how he'd failed to notice her huge storm-grey eyes, her long lashes. Past all that make up, the clear pantyhose, would she still be as damned pretty?

Maybe he was staring, but he thought he heard her chuckle, before she stepped back, gave him a lingering look, and flounced back into the crowd.

But not before she had breathed: "Meet me in the men's bathroom" into his ear.

When he got there, all the stalls were empty. He decided to wait, since the target of his mission had not yet arrived at the club. He had time to kill, and it was the least he could do to kill it with her, seeing as they were old acquaintances and all. Minato didn't get the space to pause to laugh at his own pun when the bathroom door swung open and a man in a neon green shirt stepped in to do his business. He finished, as Minato lounged about facing in the other direction, pretending to be fixing his pants.

It was only about three more minutes after the man had walked out that she walked in.

"We're not going to be overheard, are we?" Minato said.

She raised an eyebrow at him as she tugged at the bottom of her dress in a vain effort to cover more skin. "Even a foolproof system has its flaws."

Her voice was as he'd remembered it, just… more composed. There was a slight lilt to it, but it wasn't the hooker's drawl he'd heard on the dance floor earlier.

'Right', he thought mentally. His own flaws were beginning to show as his eyes wandered a little too low. Strangely enough, the woman in front of him didn't sucker punch him, like the girl would have undoubtedly done. She smiled her vixen's smile again before clopping in her heels to the counter to examine her hair and make up in the mirror.

"So," she said as she rubbed at a smear near her eye. "How did you know it was me?"

"Likewise," Minato said lightly. "It's been a few years, hasn't it?"

She snorted, and Minato couldn't help but grin at its familiarity.

"You haven't changed at all. Same pineapple hair and everything."

"Jounin perception, I guess. Your hair is also a pretty rare color… Kushina."

She turned around and gave him an eyebrow lift so full of the feminine mystique he had to quirk one side of his mouth upwards. "We've met once. So that's Uzumaki-san to you," Kushina retorted coolly.

He ignored her comment. "How many more minutes free time do we have?"

The redhead disappeared into one of the stalls. Her voice drifted from the other side. "Until I finish peeing. And then adjusting my make up again."

Minato grinned at this. Her old quirks were showing. The long legged creature he saw today apparently still had some of the tomboy left in her. Even if the potty mouth seemed mostly gone.

"Did you have to pick the men's bathroom?"

Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. "You're more comfortable this way, right? Anyways, I wouldn't want you defiling the women's bathroom with your maleness."

"Masculinity," he corrected.

"Shut up."

The flushing of the toilet could be heard.

And then she flounced out of the stall in her four-inch heels. Minato glanced at her slender form, the curve of her hip, the way the glittering dark green dress hugged and draped at the same time. And then he wondered where she kept her kunai. And then he wondered if he should morally have the right to wonder such. Given his masculinity, and all.

After she'd finished washing her hands, she'd splashed her face with the cool droplets of water, moving her lips in a satisfied 'mmm' at the icy relief that coursed down her skin. Minato watched, transfixed, as the beads of transparent liquid caressed her flushed skin and trailed down the milky column of throat like a lover's gesture.

He swallowed heavily.

"So, what's the mission?"

She didn't so much as look at him. "Who says it always has to be a mission?"

The Konoha shinobi looked at her, applying a gratuitous amount of mascara on her already thick eyelashes. And then he noticed the black garters peeking out from the slit in her dress as she leaned over the washroom counter.

Peek-a-boo.

"You often dress like this, then?"

"What's it to you?"

Minato could practically hear the smirk in her voice. He couldn't see it, since he was too busy eyeing… well, the rest of her personage.

"No, really. I'm returning from a mission, too," Minato said, noncommittal.

"What—You lie, now, too? You never used to. Lucky for you, I proofed these walls earlier. No sounds can escape, as long as we keep it reasonable." Kushina was rearranging her hair now. She switched maddeningly fast from one becoming hairstyle to another, slightly ritzier, one.

Minato had the sudden urge to explain himself, but overcompensation wasn't something most people attributed to the Yellow Flash. "I'm here gathering notes for my Sensei. It probably doesn't matter if anyone hears about the '_Icha Icha Paradise'_ series he's drafting."

"Whatever you say, Minato-kun." Kushina straightened from the mirror, smiling with teeth. "That's what all your fangirls used to call you, right?" She once again looked almost hooker vampire-like in her made-up glory.

"So, are you really just out for the night?" Minato asked. He couldn't keep out the tinge of hope in his voice. Screw it if he didn't have that much time to spare, if he really should be back at Konoha in precisely one hundred and sixty two minutes to check all the paperwork for his assigned genin that would be coming in a few weeks or so. But then again, he didn't get to see an old acquaintance everyday.

"You're going to have to do better than that wallflower dance if you want to collect data to add as notes for your sensei's perverted novel series," she drawled. Then she laughed. "But you are pretty good at guessing. I am on a mission tonight."

"Oh." Minato lowered his eyes imperceptibly. "Then I guess I should leave you alone."

Kushina turned to face him, and a familiar old tug to the left side of her lips marked her trademark grin. "If you really gotta know, I'm dragging ol' Lord Toshimoto's concubine Hina home for him. She apparently decided a life as a stripper paid better, and ran away for good."

Minato glanced at Kushina's hand, already on the doorknob. But she was looking at him, almost expectantly, with those big eyes. So he asked:

"They sent _you_ for this? Aren't you a jounin by now, and one of the best in Whirlpool?"

Yes, he knew a few things. Half of his old squadron _did _rip off her page from Konoha's foreign jounin guide to paste on their bedroom wall collections.

She actually giggled at this, and her pretty eyes crinkled in mirth, as if his confused questions were the funniest things she'd heard in ages.

"Oh, so the great Yellow Flash has heard of me? Well, Whirlpool's not doing as well as Konoha these days. We can't afford to be picky with missions—and this one pays well. No mess ups allowed… so they sent me."

Minato grinned. "I find that hard to believe. You weren't exactly a state-of-the-art perfectionist as a kid. Or was that one time you and I met in Konoha just a fluke?"

Kushina's face seemed to glow at the challenge in his voice. "Hey, I can be stealthy when I need to be. And besides, Hina-chan is _vicious._ I saw her tonight. She's been staring at you for a full half-hour, looking at you like you were a bowl of her favorite ramen or something. Don't underestimate girls—don't underestimate concubines."

The stilettos tapped on the floor, echoing, as Kushina walked closer. Minato didn't notice the roll of her hips, the loose swing of her arms, the way she bared her chest. He was only transfixed on her face. The blazing eyes and the red, painted and supine lower lip she teased with a pink tongue.

"And don't underestimate me… Minato-kun," she breathed.

Her face was only centimeters from his. Her lips were even closer. And her defiant, lifted chin brushed his. Minato could barely breathe. He felt the familiar yet unfamiliar chakra crackle along her flawless skin. It played along his own jaw, made his nerves tingle, and his heart pound an unsteady rhythm in his ears.

_Sensei… just wait until you get these notes for your book…_

That was his last rational thought until she pressed her mouth to his in a none-too-gentle manner. His own lips were parted in an 'o' of surprise. Kushina took the chance with a kunoichi's reflexes as her tongue entered and swept the inside of his mouth. Blue fire seemed to dance along his every nerve as Kushina's tongue grappled with his own. There was a surge of chakra, and suddenly Minato's very teeth felt on fire, a painfully hot and pleasurable torment that Kushina was no doubt behind. Kushina expertly did one last sweep, and suddenly her soft red lips weren't mashed up against his anymore.

Minato watched her flounce out again in her heels. There was barely any give to her knees. Minato's own, embarrassingly enough, felt like konyaku jelly. Her voice floated out from behind the door as she stepped back into the dance room.

"And by the way, Hina-chan knows that move, too. But lucky for you, I got to you first."

.

.

.

"That fucking blows," Inoichi shouted in disgust after Minato dutifully relayed the mission outcome. "Who knew that two shinobi were going after one target?"

The sun was already below the horizon, its last rays fading into bursts of orange and pink. This time of day, the usual chunnin and jounin received time off from duty. It was a bit too late to train, but too early to hit the sack. Most young men took the time to socialize what little they could, before they forgot the art of socialization altogether. Konohagakure's oldest dango shop was a shinobi favorite, with fifteen flavors and fifteen sassy waitresses to boot.

Shikaku fingered his finished stick of dango listlessly. "It can happen. Although, this is likely the first time Mr. Can-Do-No-Wrong gave away his spoils to some other shinobi."

Minato should have known better than to hang out with Ino-Shika-Cho trio after a mission failure. Sure, they were old Academy friends and now drinking buddies (admittedly, Minato was usually chaperone), but that didn't mean they were going to go easy on him. After a mission where Minato could only shrug and say he'd strolled off and just _let_ the other shinobi take his place, it wasn't like he had anyone to pass the blame onto.

"Score zero, Yellow Flash. Didn't know you had it in you, man." Inoichi's countenance was positively jubilant. Minato suddenly felt like reminding the other blonde of all their childhood sparring sessions—and just who'd ended up close to tears once. But Chouza's large hand clapped Minato, hard, on the back.

Minato winced. Chouza only slapped his friends heartily as a cheering-up tactic, but the robust man seriously needed to find a better way to express condolences.

"So, Minato, who's the lucky shinobi who got one off of you?"

All three eyed him curiously. Minato's mouth felt clumsy with muted embarrassment as he mumbled, "Kunoichi, actually."

Chouza choked on the last stick of dango he was polishing off, and Shikaku's half-hooded eyes flew open.

"_Wo-ah!_ Seriously, this gets better and better!" Inoichi wiped a tear from his eye in exaggerated emotion. "You're growing up. Let me buy you a drink next time."

"I've been a legal adult for two years."

"Yeah, but what about your—" Inoichi's eyebrows wriggled rather suggestively. "_Other_ manhood? The one that counts."

"You don't score with enemy kunoichi. Not if you want to live, that is," Shikaku muttered, half-amused. "Stop stretching your imagination, Inoichi. Look at Chouza—he's turning red."

"Not enemy, technically." Minato corrected, wondering why he was even bothering. "Whirlpool…"

"Ha, no way! THAT tiny country?"

"How many shinobi do they have, anyway?"

Minato sighed. "Well, they don't have many people, but I've heard they're pretty good. Specialize in sealing techniques."

"Sounds boring," Shikaku supplied.

"Maybe." Minato rose from the bench. "Look, guys, I gotta go. I have all this paperwork to fill out for the Hokage. Plus, he wants to send me on another mission."

The trio let his cryptic excuse go, although Inoichi was still dropping florid hints about the Yellow Flash's love life while winking conspicuously at the slightly scandalized newbie waitress. A put-in-place Flash walked away, trying to ignore the loud calls behind his back of "_try not to get distracted by female genitalia next time, Mina-chan_".

In truth, the Hokage didn't have any new missions for Minato. And the paperwork story was a lie told on the fly.

Minato shrugged out of his jounin flak jacket to pull on a form-fitting black turtleneck. He'd dumped most of his dirty civilian attire in the laundry, feeling like he'd never want to do another one of those kinds of missions again. Fitting into a party scene as an innocent, drunk, hormonal boy wasn't really his style, it turned out. Buckling on his grey ANBU vest, the weight of the metal plates pressing against his diaphragm, he felt a sense of calm settle in as he examined the time on the wall clock.

He dozed a little. After the preparations were in place, there was not much more to do. After a pleasant nap, Minato woke and examined the hands of the wall clock hanging above his kitchen doorframe.

Two fifteen a.m. Almost.

Minato walked to the center of his living room, and let his thoughts wander for a brief moment. It was fairly confusing, seeing her again for the first time in years. She probably didn't realize she still owed him for all those years ago.

Jiraiya-sensei's voice seemed to ring in his ear. _"Women, Minato. Womankind was born to take advantage of man and squeeze him dry. Don't even think about making an agreement with one. They'll always find a loophole."_

Of course, Minato hadn't really known she was a girl at the time.

He fingered a few well-oiled three-pronged kunai in his pouch, along with some wire and a pack of band-aids.

Then, taking one last peek at the clock again, Namikaze Minato vanished from the middle of his living room.

.

.

.

* * *

_She scratched at her neck, tugging at the collar of the chunnin vest insistently. She knew the blue of it contrasted dreadfully with her red mop of hair and pale, slightly freckled skin. _

_The odd blue-eyed boy with hair the color of the sun peered at her as if he'd never seen anything quite like her. It wasn't a wary look, but the intensity of his cerulean gaze did nothing to mollify her temperament. She fidgeted, looking for a line to seem less nervous, less awkward, more in control. Anything to give him a good impression of Whirlpool and of her. This was her duty, as an ambassador of goodwill for future generations. _

_"These clothes are shitty uncomfortable," she blurted out. _

_The boy seemed to try to smile, although he only managed to look a bit confused. "It's a nice color, though. Do all the chunnins in Whirlpool wear it regularly?"_

_Her ears flushed hot. "Nah. We don't really have much other than the hitae-ate that ninjas have to wear back at home. These duds were issued three years ago when Leaf ninjas came to visit, but now no one wears 'em 'cept those who think they're big shots or something, 'ttebane."_

_The boy listened patiently as she mouthed off. _

_"Gouza-sensei forced me to wear it. Said something 'bout imitation being the best flattery…" She sheepishly trailed off, and her hand dropped by her side to stop tugging at the neckline of the vest. Oh kami, now she'd done it._

_"What're you smiling at?" she bit out defensively, eyebrows knitted at his now wide grin. _

_"Thank you," the sunshine-boy said politely. "They seem to have… interesting concepts of flattery, where you come from."_

.

.

.

Uzumaki Kushina was hardly the maverick of her village. She still had her father, her brothers, and several of the older kunoichi to beat. However, she was good enough to subdue chunnin, some jounin, and most lecherous men. Where skill and intuition didn't serve her, Kushina had something most kunoichi lacked—superior stamina. Her chakra reserves were vast, and even among the Uzushio, of an extremely rare signature.

She'd been amenable enough to taking the borderline B-rank mission. It did pay extremely well, with the concubine being a favorite of an old Daimyo Lord. Kushina had delivered Concubine Hinako to the castle a few hours ago, and received a small sack of gold in return. After catching a glimpse of the Daimyo, she concluded there was nothing profound about Hina's escape from Lord Toshimoto—he was old, mean, and piss ugly. But what surprised Kushina was the apprehension in the girl's eyes when Kushina had first revealed she was a ninja, and not just an ordinary guard.

Part of the answer to the mystery, it turned it, was now tucked safely in the worn dresser of the small room of the inn.

Kushina shifted on her futon. A niggling sensation in the pit of her stomach woke her from her sleep.

Earlier, Kushina had closed the curtains of the room's small window, preferring the privacy as she stripped down to her undergarments. There remained no evidence that she was a ninja. Her fingers had flown over the motions of a basic materials seal as she sealed all her ninja equipment into a small green makeup bag. She had also trod around the room, securing the perimeter of her bedroom, making sure there were no bugs.

She rarely ever dreamed when sleeping. When she did, she never remembered them. But this time, sunshine hair and clear blue eyes—ones she'd rendez-vous'ed with just a day ago—flickered under her eyelids every time she tried to reclose them. _'Get it together, Kushina. The Yellow Flash title can't just be for show._'

So she lit a candle, padded over to the dresser, opened the bottom-most drawer, and took out the tiny, furled scroll at the far reach of the cabinet. Kushina felt her chakra hum at her fingertips, before she bit into her left thumb to release a pinprick of fresh blood with which to write her seal.

She worked quickly. The ritual soothed her nerves, and she immediately felt sleepy after performing the complex fuinjutsu seal. Afterward, Kushina sunk deliciously into the lumpy bedding of the inn's futon.

Sleep reclaimed her.

For a few minutes.

A slight wind tickled at her nose. _Huh._

That was impossible, since the window and door were closed tightly.

_Crap._

Kushina kept her eyes closed, her left hand stretching lazily, as if in sleep, toward the underside of her pillow. There was a small silver dagger tucked under the pillow. One more second and the intruder would be dea—

An intense, vice-like pressure clamped around her wrist suddenly, stopping her from reaching the weapon.

Kushina relaxed the arm instantly, feigning sleep. Yet her other arm lashed out like a snake from under the bedding, ready to shove his jaw in or close around the enemy's neck.

An iron grip swiftly closed around that arm too, this time accompanied by a soft "Woah there".

Kushina opened her eyes slowly, grudgingly.

"What're you smiling at?" she grimaced.

The blonde tufts of hair poking out from behind the mask gave away his identity. None other than Konoha's Yellow Flash knelt above her. She couldn't tell what expression he was wearing, as he had one of those Konoha Black Ops mask on. The ANBU leaned imposingly over her, his knees pressed far too intimately to hers if not for the bedding in between them. One of his hands secured both her wrists in a death grip. His other hand held a poised kunai a hair's breadth from her jugular.

"I need it back, please."

"I already gave Hina-chan back to her _Danna-sama_."

"Not her. Don't play stupid, Kushina."

"How did you get here?" she asked instead.

He paused, as if contemplating whether he should answer. "I did some training after you left Konoha. Invented new jutsu. This is my Hiraishin."

"The Flying Thunder God Technique?" Impressive. Didn't some Iwa jounin warn her once?

"Yes. I put a seal on the back of your neck yesterday. Your hair's too long for anyone to see it."

She smiled slowly, feeling almost—_almost_—proud of him. "That's amazing."

She couldn't see his expression flicker at her praise.

The kunai pressed a bit closer, and something wet trickled down toward the bedding.

"So _why_ are you here, then, Minato? Uzushio and Konoha aren't enemies."

"Classified information. Konoha's higher ups don't think at these are times of peace. I just need that scroll back. It was Konoha's to begin with, but got leaked to a concubine who didn't know how to read it. Look, I don't want to kill you."

"You wouldn't."

"Namikaze Minato wouldn't," he agreed. "A Konoha ANBU would. You know which one is here tonight."

Her eyes flashed dangerously at his frank statement. Minato had a fleeting thought that she looked beautiful, feral, almost, her crimson hair pooled wildly around her heart-shaped face. "Where is it? Tell me now," he repeated.

Kushina's answer was curt and unexpected.

"I ate it."

If anyone else had been there in the inn bedroom, they'd have seen the Yellow Flash goggle at the redhead pinned to her bedding. A few seconds passed, before Minato's low tenor laugh rang out startlingly loud in the close-walled bedroom.

After a few more seconds of mirth, the Yellow Flash finally got out, "If you ate it, hypothetically, that is—"

"Not hypothetical. Fact."

"Factual, you mean," he chuckled, but his grip on both her wrists was still like an iron vice. "Anyhow, I can't say I believe that. You've probably done a good number of missions by now, and wouldn't eat a scroll before peeking. And, if you did peek beforehand, you know it's too valuable not to deliver to your superiors."

"I saw it. Boring stuff," she bluffed.

They'd already talked too much. ANBU don't talk before making the kill. Minato searched Uzumaki Kushina's face for signs of a lie. She remained quiet but her grey eyes danced in the soft candlelight, as if challenging him. Her lips were in a soft, defiant smile. He felt his own lips tug upwards behind the ANBU mask. Not that she'd know.

"And then you ate it?"

"Old fashioned, but super effective disposal method," she stated, feigning a solemn tone. "Only drawback was that it tasted terrible, 'ttebane. What do you idiots in Konoha mix into your ink?"

Minato sighed something along the lines of "_you were right, Sensei_" before easing the pressure of the kunai at her throat. Seeing no other solution, he removed the kunai altogether and looked ruefully at the weeping, red cut-the only imperfection on smooth creamy skin. With his other hand still holding securely onto both her wrists, and his knees preventing her legs from flying anywhere close to his groin, he proceeded to fish around in the small pouch at his waist.

"I brought band-aids," he informed her. "I would give you one for your neck, but I can't peel off the non-sticky part without both hands. Sorry. Can you hold still?"

Just the slight relaxing of pressure against her wrists was enough. Kushina's arms broke free from their stranglehold, and the Uzu kunoichi twisted the futon around her, using the bedding to shield her body temporarily while she flung her makeshift cocoon out of his reach.

_'Hah. Sucker',_ she thought.

She noticed the slight gleam of the wire too late. In the weak flickering candlelight, the numerous wires threading the bedroom floor were all but invisible. Kushina lost her footing for just an instant, and that was all he needed before he caught her. She felt her legs swooped up from the ground, as strong arms wrapped around her midsection.

"Hold on," Minato murmured near her ear.

"Wha-"

_Oh._

Instinctively, Kushina decided to cling onto Minato for dear life as the _very earth_ tilted under her feet. So she none-too-gently grabbed two fistfuls of blonde hair (just for good measure), and held on tight.

* * *

**To be continued. **

**Con crit and general feedback warmly solicited. **

***Note: currently actively seeking beta reader! All those with guts and (fifteen min) free time during the week please apply!**


	2. Game of Thrones

.

**- Vainglory -**

02: Game of Thrones

.

_"It is not wisdom but authority that makes a law."_

.

Hobbes

* * *

Shimura Danzou's Konoha was a land of prosperity. The sky spread out from the Hokage cliffs, while lush green forests turned to flaming orange, red, and golds in the autumn seasons, mirroring the bounty of wheat gold harvests that brought stability to civilian populations and shinobi alike. Konohagakure's villagers had wealth, not excess. They were, at least, a far cry above subsistence level.

The population boomed, trade flourished, and the hallmarks of culture and tradition permeated the great ninja clans of the Hidden Fire Village.

But as the truest, most delicate of jewels were refined only by fire and strain, so was the bloom of a peaceful village borne through ruthless diplomacy and blood sacrifice. Each crammed apartment building was a towering monument to Konoha's glory, built upon foundations of human flesh and blood.

Only great men felt a fascination for the balance between the delicate light and the dark shadow, and shied away from neither element.

The Hokage was not simply a man. He was a demi-god, requiring those loyal to him to sacrifice for the greater good. Danzou did not enjoy being Hokage—in fact, there were times in his own shinobi career that he'd thrown down his weapon and clutched it against his own throat. But in the end, only cowards ran away from reality.

The Yondaime Hokage riffed absently through the paperwork that Senju's great granddaughter had sent him two days prior. _Medic _ninjas on every squad, the report suggested. An interesting solution, if rather weak-willed. Since the beginning of time, war was in essence a battle of survival. The weakest shinobi were rooted out from the rest. Mere simulations like the chunnin exams never were harsh enough, and certain soft rules of leniency were given to exam repeat-takers. However, the strategist in Danzou had to admit there was value in keeping veterans when they could, and fresh talent was always hard to come by. He flipped the packet over and stamped it with a dark red seal, swiftly casting it into his 'to read' bin.

Five earmarks into a small mountain of paperwork, Danzou's patience was wearing thin. The best ideas always came from Orochimaru, another one of Sarutobi's old genin students. Danzou had never taken students of his own, but he'd always felt a close attachment to the shockingly bright, perfectionist nature of the pale, soft-spoken boy. Still, Danzou could never shake the rather… slimy feeling he got whenever in close proximity with him, as if the now Sannin was simply waiting to slither out of Konoha to satisfy a greater ambition. In that respect, thedoggedly loyal, if somewhat guileless, character of the third Sannin, Jiraiya, was preferred in a shinobi.

There was still much to do—too many and yet too few new talents to be harvested. In these times, it was crucial to strengthen Konoha's security measures beyond what paltry defenses Hiruzen had left from the last decade.

Just a day ago, a messenger had sent word of a fascinating new tragedy that had occurred in the Land of Wind. Rumors had it that a demon had ambushed a squad of Suna shinobi, mysteriously leaving one female chunnin alive, who happened to be affianced to Sunagakure's next Kazekage. Interesting indeed. Danzou thought back to the stories he'd read from the Shodaime's records of demon beasts, captured by the Hidden Villages to do their bidding. Konoha had enviable bloodline limits, including the byakugan and sharingan, as well as Senju mokuton… but how would they fair against demons?

Not very well. That's why Danzou needed his own weapon, which, when the time came, could make the preemptive strike.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. A second later, the hooded ANBU materialized from the wall with a curt wave of Danzou's hand.

"Squad Ibiki has just returned from their mission. The Council of Elders requests an urgent audience with you, Hokage-sama."

.

.

.

"Mmm-pph—mm-nm-n!"

"Hold still—"

"MMN."

"Stop wriggling."

His voice was starting to sound harried. The frustrated jounin ran his hands through what felt like considerably sparser patches in his blonde head of hair.

All of a sudden (as if a sweet, merciful force from above had taken pity), the writhing stopped.

Well, at least she was obedient now. The young man wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially one that kicked and screamed and _bit_. Quickly, Minato got to work, securing the ties binding his hostage's ankles together. He straightened after he was done, and tried to avoid the seething look of pure hatred she was sending him.

"Look, I'm going to take off the bandage when I count to three. Don't start screaming again, okay? The landlady is a floor down, and I don't want her and the neighbors to think I'm a kidnapper serial killer."

In response, Kushina cocked an eyebrow so full of character that Minato could have sworn he heard it say: "Oh, but you _are_."

"I'm not," he denied half-heartedly.

Kushina's eyes crinkled into half-moons. Right, so now she was laughing at him behind the bandage plastered over her mouth (the prized, large one in his pack of band aids). Minato felt the second largest headache of the century coming on. The first largest had been when he'd first towed her home to his unassuming LDK apartment.

Somehow, this person made the accomplished jounin feel twelve years old again—like the real twelve year old that Minato'd hidden beneath a polite and polished exterior back in the day. If only the rest of the village could only see him now.

The blonde-haired jounin carefully ripped the bandage off of her mouth. As if on cue, Kushina let loose a wordless, bloodcurdling screech that rattled the windowpanes.

_O-ouch. _

"What are you going to do if people come?" Minato tried in vain to speak over the Banshee in his living room. "Then I'll have to report you to the Yondaime Hokage."

The Banshee paused for a split second.

If it was for air, or a response to something he'd said, Minato couldn't be sure. But all in all, the Yellow Flash wasn't fast for nothing. Minato promptly took that moment to quickly, awkwardly, slap the bandage back on the young woman's mouth. Though it had lost much of it's stickiness, it did the trick for the moment. Kushina's trademark murderous look was back in full force.

"Uh, are you hungry?" Maybe a peace offering would do the trick. "I'll cook some ramen."

Minato figured Kushina couldn't eat and scream at the same time. No one was _that_ talented. With a goal in mind, he quickly escaped into the kitchen, leaving the young woman to resume plotting bloody murder in his living room. Working efficiently, the blonde set the kettle on the stove and took out a cup of instant noodles from the cupboard.

As if on cue, Minato heard an audible gurgle from the living room, where Kushina was currently tied up on his most comfortable, lumpy, floral print armchair. In the newfound silence, the grumble seemed to echo off the walls.

"Miso, okay?" he called to the other room.

A pause followed his statement. Then—

"Curry seafood udon."

Minato frowned. "What?"

"Curry seafood udon," Kushina repeated rigidly, before adding with a bit more enthusiasm, "With extra bonito flakes. And those little fishcake things." Her slightly hoarse voice carried from the living room. "Remember, udon noodles, not those thin dehydrated things that dissolve when you pinch them with chopsticks."

Guess the bandage had fallen off again, discontent with resting on Kushina's big mouth. What was that line again? About giving an inch and taking a mile. Minato tried to stifle the bubble of wry amusement that welled up in his throat, as he poured the now boiling water into the steaming Styrofoam cup.

He carried it over to where Kushina was daintily sitting … err, daintily tied to the only floral print in Minato's living room. It was his oldest, most comfortable armchair, pilfered for dirt cheap from a convenient tag sale down the street.

Upon smelling the simple miso seasoning, Kushina's large grey eyes grew wide and her mouth became slack-jawed with hunger. Nonetheless, when her eyes scanned the label, the Whirlpool kunoichi seemed to gather up an immense strength of will to sniff disdainfully at the offering.

"That's not what I ordered."

"Get it yourself, then," Minato suggested.

She fidgeted cutely a bit, then motioned with her chin at the secure fabric ties around her wrists and ankles and hip which glued her to Minato's flowery armchair.

"That's right," he agreed cheerfully. "Don't forget you're my prisoner."

"Twisted ANBU bastard."

Minato merely blinked at her, nonplussed, as he held out a spoon. "Want me to feed you?" His offer, though innocent enough, was welcomed with a subzero-degree glare.

"Untie my hands. Now."

"No can do. You'll probably perform some weird foreign jutsu and try to kill me. And maybe succeed." Minato flipped open the lid of the ramen cup, wafting some of the noodles' smell toward his redheaded victim. Come to think of it, he was pretty hungry, too. And, as often occurred to prodigies, a genius idea struck him. Maybe _he'd_ eat them in front of her. Wasn't this method printed in nearly every old interrogation technique handbook?

"I promise, on my honor," Kushina wheedled.

"Well, look what happened last time."

It wasn't that Minato was being mean, per say. To be fair, her crocodile tears weren't very convincing. Kushina positively glowered at him. Something akin to a huge raincloud passed over her face, and, if possible, her dour expression turned even further to that of utmost dislike. It was ten seconds until she snapped.

"Look, you can either let me starve here and _still_ never get the contents of your precious scroll back, or you can untie me now and take me on like a real ninja."

"Or I can just eat and wait for you to spill your secrets," Minato swirled around his noodle broth, watching the little white pieces of tofu bob in the rich golden miso. He felt oddly content with biding his time, getting her to slowly trust him enough to speak. In the back of his mind, a niggling worry pestered Minato. He knew that Danzou wouldn't be fooled for long by his "failed mission" act.

"Where is the scroll, really?"

"I told you, I ate it."

"Then you must not be hungry right now," Minato concluded.

Kushina sniffed again, trying in vain to mask the insistent grumbling of her stomach. "Well now, I didn't know the Great Yellow Flash was such a coward. Won't even fight a fragile little girl fair and square. He has to ambush her in her bed, and then starve her."

Said Great Yellow Flash returned with a soft smile. Self-effacing jabs didn't really suit her, he thought. Plus, Minato's ego didn't bruise quite as easily ever since enemy nin from over five elemental lands had decided to print an "S" next to his name in their Bingo books.

"You're no fragile girl. And I'm a Konoha jounin because I plan ahead, and take no chances," He tapped at the rim of the ramen cup thoughtfully. "Though I am taking a chance with you. Why do you need the scroll anyway?"

Kushina didn't respond.

"Wrong place at the wrong time, then? Maybe you wish you hadn't peeked?" Minato pushed.

Still no response.

"Okay, I get it." He sighed, getting up and going into his bedroom. He returned a minute later having changed into a pair of blue sweats and a blue pullover. Kushina seemed to eye him appreciatively, although that may have just been her straining against her bonds to try to get close enough to slice his jugular.

"I'll be back. Don't burn the house down while I'm gone," the blonde told her as he swung open the front door of the apartment. The sky outside was inky and dark. Kushina had half a mind to start screaming bloody murder again, but his next few words stopped her short.

"Curry seafood udon, right? Sheesh, where do they sell that, anyway."

Without waiting for her answer, Minato closed the door behind him.

.

.

.

Kushina wanted to hurl something at the door as he left. No, really, she would have. The ropes on her arms and legs and hips were never more frustrating than when she felt the wave of anger surge at his freedom to close the fucking door on her and go carry on with his daily routine.

"Stupid softie."

Konoha shinobi ought to be made of sterner stuff than Sunshine. Rather than the Yellow Flash, Namikaze Minato was more like the sun, constantly in routine each day and possibly the only way Kushina could track the span of time, with him sleeping and waking at more regular hours than her.

Somehow, she'd survived what was probably the fourth day of captivity (judging by the state of her hair) in his apartment. It certainly wasn't a dump, and was quite cozy, but it did look quite like what she'd imagined a bachelor pad to be—food packaging strewn about, a few crumpled sweats here and there, and the toilet seat always up. She'd already memorized the locations of all the knives and assassination-worthy cutlery Minato kept in the kitchen, which she could almost peer into if she used all her energy to make the plush armchair she has tied to skip a few centimeters off the ground.

When Minato got home, she'd need to convince him to let her use the shower. They managed on the bathroom okay, even if it was a rather unceremonious event of him sitting her on the toilet and shutting the door while he waited for her to finish. But enough was enough. It didn't matter if the Yellow Flash liked his women overexposed and stinky. Kushina didn't think anyone could take her seriously if she smelled any worse than she did—least of all the Hokage when he decided to execute her.

Danzou, was it? She remembered the guy. Bandages and the smell of ginger. She shuddered slightly as the shadows on the walls seemed to grow, mirroring hazy half-recalled memories.

"Snap out of it, Kushina," she reprimanded herself sharply. "No one knew. No one knows."

In the empty apartment that was not her own, the hollow mantra wrestled with the stale silence like a pitiful, losing denial, echoing an unspoken '_yet_'.

.

.

.

Ibiki Morino caught up with Minato as he exited the Hokage Tower. It was bright and early in the morning, and mostly only ninja and shopkeepers were up and about on Konoha's clean-swept streets. Ever since Danzou's militaristic daily "health schedule" had been pasted to the Ninja Handbook for every shinobi ranked chunnin and above, even the lazier shinobi had been forced to take early morning scouting missions and Hokage tower watch guard positions. Ibiki Morino had finished up his scouting round early to catch the younger jounin after his briefing.

"Good morning, Namikaze. I need to speak to you."

The younger jounin turned around and waved politely as Ibiki made his way over to him.

"Did you just speak with the Hokage?"

Minato nodded. "Yeah, he wasn't in a great mood."

Ibiki squared Minato with one of his infamous interrogator stares. The blonde felt himself flinch at the gravelly voice. "Do you know why?"

"Mission debriefing didn't go well," Minato replied with as much smoothness as he could muster. "Did Ino-Shika-Cho tell you about my big failure recently, or are you part of the half of Konoha they haven't gotten to yet?"

Ibiki nodded tersely and reached over to pat Minato on the back in a fatherly fashion, although with his dark cape and skullcap, most onlookers would have believed the scene to be a mugging in broad daylight. "The Hokage is trying to see if you're made of sterner stuff than just a rank-and-file jounin, Namikaze. I'll bet Danzou's looking for a successor among the younger talent. Though, that's not the only reason why the Hokage's upset. Come to my offices. I'll tell you as we get some tea."

Minato hesitated briefly, then rushed to follow the interrogations specialist as he made his way over to his office at the nearby Konoha Investigations Bureau. "Sure, though I'm in a bit of a rush to get back to my apartment."

The scar-faced older man stopped his brisk gait to turn around to look at Minato. "Oh, why?"

"New cat."

"Oh," Ibiki's face lit up with a benign smile, which stretched some of the pale scars he had on his face. Ibiki Morino had a secret soft spot for animals not many knew about. Minato only figured it out since, as a new genin, he had frequently reported his D-rank mission finishes to Ibiki, who liked to rub his face against none-too-willing household pets before returning them to their owners.

"Well, I'll have to buy some kitty chow for it some time. Male or female? How old?"

"Someday," Minato sidestepped. "She's not exactly trained to handle strangers yet, but I'll let you know when you can come visit. So, Ibiki-san, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well," the rugged-looking jounin started, opening the door to a small white room Minato figured was his office. "You know I recently got sent on a diplomacy mission to Kumo. There were four of us, including that new jounin Hyuga Hiashi."

"Hiashi, who's being groomed as the next head of the Hyuga clan," Minato mused aloud.

Did Danzou want the influence of one of the oldest houses in Konoha to intimidate or to flatter Kumogakure's leaders? Kumo was one of the countries that Konoha was in the process of signing a tenuous peace treaty with. Any wrong move, and Kumo would be swayed toward Iwagakure's side—and it had been years since Konoha was _not_ locked in a feud with Iwa.

"I'm only telling you this because I figure distorted rumors would float around the jounin circles soon anyway, but I figure you have a right to make sure there's at least a grain of truth that reaches your peers." Ibiki took out two cups from a small cupboard as Minato sat down at one of two chairs.

The room was furnished to a bare minimum, and was almost entirely made of off whitish painted walls except for a single narrow vertical window that made the office something suspiciously like the prison cell aesthetic. How cheery.

"Tea?"

Minato took the proffered cup with thanks, and sipped at its steaming contents gingerly as Ibiki continued with his mission story.

"Kumo signed the alliance document on the second day of our visit. Unfortunately, on our way back to Konoha, we were ambushed by a band of mercenaries."

That was interesting, and quite uncommon in Minato's experience. Mercenaries rarely came after outfitted ninja, much less small team squads with no cargo and nothing precious to offer. Additionally, mercenaries were generally much weaker when it came to individual skill, thus their lowering popularity among local Daimyo's and other hiring agents.

Ibiki took a long swig of barley tea. "So, naturally, we attacked in self-defense. These days, there's always a chance that some missing nin from the war has decided to get along with a mercenary squad, so we didn't hold back. Somehow, in the middle of the fight, Hyuga was separated from us. Only after myself, Nishiki, and Arata had polished off about ten of the mercenaries did we find Hyuga again, a few meters off."

"Was he injured?" Minato asked, his brain rapidly putting together the pieces of the story.

A permanent injury wouldn't be good, especially if it came to the inheritor of one of the most powerful bloodlines in Konoha. Danzou and most of the Council of Elders would probably freak if something happened to cripple a future clan head.

"Not greatly. He'd killed his sole opponent, and relayed to us that his opponent had been skilled in ninjutsu. We found the man dead on the forest floor, so we unraveled his head gear to get a look at his face."

Minato had more than a clue as to where this was going, and it wasn't anywhere good. While he wasn't the most international relations savvy, Minato had been drilled by Jiraiya from a young age to appreciate the finesse of a good shoji strategy. Feuds between countries were the same as in an intricate game, where every move was linked to five more in the future and past. He found the game-theory as fascinating as he hated its prevalence in the real world.

Ibiki seemed to recognize the look of comprehension that dawned on the blonde's face. _So you've figured it out this quickly_. The older jounin tucked that piece of information in the back of his mind. Part of the reason he'd called Namikaze Minato to his office was that he wanted to test the boy's rumored intellect for himself. _Poor boy. Danzou's gonna select you soon._

"I'll bet you want to know how high-ranked he was." Ibiki smiled grimly. "That mercenary was none other than the head of Kumogakure, who'd signed our peace treaty the day prior."

Minato didn't offer any visible response besides a slight tightening of his hands over the tea cup. Inside, his thoughts were racing. Would this mean war? Not likely—not if Kumo had been willing to even risk endangering a leader so quickly after they signed the treaty with a larger, more powerful Konoha. More importantly, was this the real reason why Danzou had sent Hyuga Hiashi on the so-called diplomacy mission? As bloodline inheritance bait, dangled out for Kumo to try to bite onto? It seemed that both sides had miscalculated, in some respect. Kumo—in losing their leader in a one-on-one fight. Konoha—in killing the Kumo leader by means of Hyuga Hiashi's own hand.

"Kumogakure has not released any formal statements, nor contacted Konoha since," Ibiki said heavily. "But I personally have every reason to believe that they'll use this chance to get to their true objective."

The Byakugan. Of course.

"Well, they won't feud with the village, so they'll take it out on the Hyuga clan itself." Minato's voice felt hollow, echoing what Ibiki must have known the second he'd seen the dead man's face.

It was as good as taking it out on Konoha's elite inner circles. A drumming sensation thrummed against Minato's temples. No wonder the Hokage had been in a foul mood.

Minato spent the rest of the morning trying to avoid ANBU that looked to be following his movements a little too closely. Perhaps Danzou would not need a mission completed so quickly. Maybe Danzou wouldn't even call on him. As much as Minato had to offer by donning his mask, he was always less than primed to threaten any of his own allies, much less people in the same village.

Feeling more than a little wary, Minato decided to do several laps around the Konoha's training field number three, before taking a long stroll home by way of the Hyuga Clan compound. Their compound was fenced by high walls, and Minato always felt like he was walking outside some small, oriental castle before a white-eyed, raven-haired figure would stalk past in a leaf hitae-ate and Minato would be reminded that he was actually in Konoha.

Today, not a Hyuga was in sight near the walls. Minato gave the traditional family the benefit of a doubt—some private anniversary celebration, a grandmother turning ninety, a family indoor picnic—before he saw a balding old geezer in a beggar's costume at the Hyuga compound Main Entrance. The man was likely sent to deliver a note, and by the looks of it, the ANBU was a very good _henge_-artist, too, if not for the fact that a tell-tale criss-cross of scars along the geezer's bare back looked a little too much like Hare's war scars from battling on the northern front. Minato had seen them all too often when the ANBU member had changed in a cramped tent with their entire squadron during field training sessions.

He walked past Hare quickly, keeping his eyes on the road as he shuffled away from the Main Entrance with purpose but not too much purpose. Once he was farther away, Minato turned back to peer at the figures by the gate. From the looks of it, the message had been received, as the old man was nowhere to be seen. The door to the Hyuga compound was shut tight, as impenetrable as ever while a maelstrom of emotions likely ran amuck inside.

He wanted to go home, but there were other problems to deal with there. Minato had kept the Whirlpool kunoichi close due to all reason and gut feeling screaming that Uzumaki Kushina still had the scroll tucked away somewhere. And if not, she had at least read its contents before destroying them. With that much valuable information in her, Minato had no intention of letting her go to report back to Whirlpool. Not with Konoha on the brink of war.

Somehow, he felt a chill up his arms knowing that, if he'd known, the Hokage would be smiling in pride somewhere.

.

.

.

The sound of keys in the doorway alerted Kushina, who immediately sat a little straighter in her chair, trying to look dignified when her captor to return home with some decent food besides instant ramen and microwave heat-ables. Didn't he promise to buy sushi?

"I'm hungry," she announced, not caring if Minato called her a house pet again.

"We'll have lunch soon." Minato shrugged off his training bag. Scrolls and library books tumbled out onto the wooden coffee table.

"And just how long are you going to keep me here?" Kushina inquired with more cheer than any kidnapped young woman was allowed to muster.

Minato glanced her way, if a little absently. "Well, since all you do is eat and sleep—until you grow too fat to fit in my armchair."

Kushina snickered. "So you're going to feed me and clothe me until then? How sweet."

Minato turned his face toward on her, the side of his mouth quirking a little bit at the image. Other than that, he was lost in thought.

Kushina could tell he was preoccupied. The question was with what. Did Konoha's top newbie jounin have a full plate of worries with politics? With women? With kidnapping fetishes? Nothing she wanted to find out about, no doubt.

Kushina watched as Minato went into his bedroom, stepping on a few candy wrappers (Kushina's handiwork last night) in his path. He emerged a few minutes later with a large towel and a basket half-filled with unfolded laundry. The Konoha jounin set the basket on the table next to his scrolls, and tossed the light green towel to Kushina. It flopped over her like a soft, fuzzy blanket, and she stared at it suspiciously for any marks of prior usage.

"I need your help."

What the—Did she hear him right? Well, anyhow, she was still tied up and captive, so what did it matter.

"For the last time, I already ate the damn scroll," she snapped.

"Not that."

He suddenly came close, and Kushina could feel his straight, piercing stare bore into her back as he undid the preliminary knots binding her to the armchair. Next, Minato undid the bindings of her arms, wrists, ankles, and hips. Kushina felt the tingling feeling of raw nerves return to her arms as she wriggled her fingers numbly. Once she was physically free, Kushina flexed her elbows and knees experimentally, keeping her guard up for any of his sudden movements.

The door was a mere four meters behind her, but what good would it do when she was released into the middle of Konohagakure, and the Yellow Flash decided to reveal her as a scroll thief? She stayed put, fixing Minato with a challenging stare.

The preoccupied look seemed to lift from his eyes, as the blonde man settled, if a little wearily, into a chair opposite her.

"First things first. You might want to take off those clothes," he suggested with a faint smile. She knew she smelled, right?

Kushina's mirroring grin widened as she shakily stood and scooped up the bath towel pooled around her very numb legs.

"Why, Minato, I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

**Suzu: a slow start, and much foreshadowing. For the record, just about ****_everyone_**** has hidden agendas.**


	3. An Eye for an Eye

**Suzu: Just a note, to start. I haven't written a huge monologue yet, so bear with me?  
**

**I do believe this is the first time I've tried writing a story _backwards_. Backwards in a sense that I start off with a lull period, hint at all the backstory that makes the present scene, and then introduce the main plot somewhere in chapter 4. I hope it's not too confusing? To be honest, this story was intended as a somewhat light-hearted romantic comedy, but it turned into something else entirely. This project now involves more in depth knowledge of Kishimoto's world, and his morality-scheme. **

**Thus, please feel absolutely free to let me know if the stuff I write actually makes sense—my foray into the Naruto-universe has been too short to know exactly what I'm doing right, and what I'm doing wrong. Aaaah! **

* * *

.

**- Vainglory -**

03: An Eye for an Eye

.

"_The price of anything is the amount of life you exchange for it." _

_._

_Thoreau_

* * *

The door to the Hokage's office swung open, and Minato's brain instructed his body to, yes, shuffle one foot in front of the other and, NO, do not steal an apprehensive look at the person by his side. She was tall, blonde, and ridiculously well-endowed in a light blue frock that matched her eyes. Actually, if someone on the street had to comment, she looked a bit like how one would imagine the long lost twin sister of Namikaze Minato. Her name—Nakamura Kumiko.

"Hello, Hokage-sama," said Kumiko.

Her _voice_ was reminiscent of summer peaches. It was, however, a futile effort. The Yondaime's expression remained stone-like as he waved her greeting away as if it were a bug.

"I didn't call you here, Namikaze Minato." Danzou's voice was bland, but his gaze was sharp.

The Hokage was seated behind a deskful of papers, stacked neatly in three piles, with loose stamp pads and pens scattered intermittently across the spacious table. The white office was devoid of any other furniture or ornamentation. It was a nostalgic sort of office, every stubborn wall hanging tack and exposed pinhole undoubtedly mourning for the last inhabitant.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that this meeting was not going to well—at least, not any sane person's definition of "well". His brain whirred through self-preservation strategies—perhaps it wasn't too late for him to pass this off as a lighthearted chat. Unfortunately, his mouth started to move before that thought completed itself.

"Excuse the interruption, Hokage-sama. I do have some urgent news. This, uh, this is—"

Minato jerked his arm to his side, awkwardly motioning toward the female. He couldn't quite bear to look at the caricature of a human. Nor at the Hokage, for that matter.

"—Nakamura Kumiko," Kumiko supplied helpfully in the silence. Minato glanced sideways, then cringed at the big, puddly blue eyes.

Danzou looked unconvinced, at best. A bit homicidal, at worst. Minato bit the inside of his cheek in muted horror, and fixed his gaze squarely on the window view from the office instead. Quite a nice view, the twilight.

"With all due respect, the truth is, I captured her alive from the most recent mission." He steeled himself against a probable demotion or relocation to a dusty corner full of deskwork.

Reflected in the window glass, the Hokage's hand traveled to the bandages covering his presumably missing eye. Four gnarled digits ghosted over the bandages, as the thumb proceeded to rub slow methodical circles at the temple. The Hokage paused in this stance for a few seconds before speaking.

"The one four days ago."

"Yessir. She was catatonic."

"Why didn't you take her to the ANBU fold, then? I would have arranged a ward." He spoke with an even rhythm, with the tempered cadence of a diplomat.

"I had her secured at my apartment. There was no harm that could come to the hostage there," Minato hedged.

The Hokage's rigid upright form sagged against the back of the chair, and suddenly, he was the picture of a harmless old man, as if all the energy in his body became spent. Danzou was anything but harmless.

The chair squeaked as the senior squared his good eye on the blonde woman who looked hopelessly out of place. She was fidgeting with her thumbs locked together behind her back.

"You. Who are you?" the raven-haired elder's voice rumbled with quiet authority.

"Naka—" she started.

The raven-haired man made a barely audible noise of derision. "Do not repeat implausible falsehoods."

"Me?" Kumiko's eyes grew wide, the picture of innocence.

Danzou's good eye narrowed, and the grisly, sagging skin of his face stretched against the twisted half smile he now wore.

"Your _red_ hair, though, is rather familiar. Are you not from Uzushiogakure?"

Kushina let out a small sound, her hand flying to her still blonde hair.

The small, self-righteous part of the Yellow Flash that didn't seem to exist except when he was around the bad-luck-Whirlpool kunoichi wanted to yell out "I told you so" at her hare-brained scheme—but the twenty-year old reined it in. As he recalled, Danzou didn't take kindly to speaking out of turn, so instead, Minato fought valiantly to keep down the itch of smacking his hostage upside the head until they were safely home—or, more plausibly, one of them (not sure which) was locked behind bars.

About an hour ago, Uzumaki Kushina had refused point blank to be towed out of the shower and get dressed to see the Hokage until she was allowed to perform a henge no jutsu on herself. Minato, only offering constructive advice, had suggested that Konoha's greatest shinobi would only see through it anyway, but she'd insisted so vehemently, the two had almost broken out into a sparring match in front of Minato's only toilet.

Seeing no way out, Minato slapped on his poker face. "Hokage-sama, I can explain—"

As it turned out, he didn't need to. The Uzumaki girl's face was a strange shade of puce, but she bravely opened her mouth all the same and announced her actual country of allegiance in a tone would make any true Whirlpool nationalist proud.

Minato's fists clenched at his sides in dismay.

The Hokage's face was a mixture of expressions: wonderment, annoyance, confusion, and, was that there something akin to absolute delight? The gleeful look was gone in a fleeting instant. Danzou snapped back to his standard gloomy somber, turning to the blonde Konoha jounin with a stern set of his jaw.

"You know what's wrong with you, my boy? Why I can't pin the future of this village on you-not now, perhaps not ever?"

_I'm Jiraiya's student, who was Sandaime's student. I didn't want to recruit people to the ROOT project. I have the highest assassination kill ratio in the village, but I'm still picky with intra-border missions, and it drives you insane._ Minato could think of a dozen more, but he didn't say anything. Danzou's eye was boring into him. Minato had a vague sense that whatever was or wasn't under the bandage was glaring sternly at him as well. He wouldn't have come, if he'd known this was going to be one of those lectures. They were always quite… long.

"I don't know, Hokage-sama."

The Hokage sighed. "There is no darkness in you, Minato."

"Hah! Excuse me?"

Both men turned to look at the source of the outburst. Kushina scoff turned into a nervous laugh, though she still looked like she wanted to contest that statement, her hand rubbing her (formerly bound) wrists.

Minato turned back to Danzou.

"Are you displeased with my performance, Hokage-sama?" he muted all emotion in his voice.

"You're skilled, too skilled for your age, for your amount of _true _battle experience. That is why you think you can get away with playing with you enemy, running in circles around them—capturing them _alive_—when you should be taking a direct approach. What happens when you aren't strong enough to be merciful? You are _vain_, Namikaze Minato."

Minato stared mutely as Danzou lifted a file from his top cabinet and tossed it in front of his desk. The man's one good eye squinted at the cover page, before his bandaged arm stretched out toward his red stamp. The report was approved with a loud thump.

"Maybe, maybe there will be a test for you soon," Danzou continued, musing. "You're so eager to prove, Minato. I know you, more than anyone, want to be this village's hero. First in your Academy class, passed the chunnin exams before all of your peers, then promoted to jounin… first to earn even a _legendary title_. Do you think that's good, Minato? Are you worth all the rumors being spread about you? Give me proof, boy."

The Yondaime didn't bother to look back up as he spoke his next words. "From what I can see, you don't understand what it really takes to be Konoha's hero. Great men, Minato... _great_ men need to embrace darkness as much as light. You cannot achieve your… potential if you shy away from one or the other."

Almost as an afterthought, Danzou added, "That's what Hiruzen did. Look where it got him."

The strangest of feelings washed over Minato at the mention of the Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Sandaime's name. An acute, burning sensation that produced an unwelcome pounding in his head, making it harder to breath. The young jounin tried to make it stop.

"Don't look at me that way, boy," Danzou frowned.

Minato realized his teeth were clenched. He relaxed them.

"Now, onto more pressing matters. I need you to escort one member of the Hyuga household to Kumogakure. The details of the mission will be delivered to your apartment tomorrow, bright and early." His tone was curt. Danzou picked up another report off his desk, scanning it absently.

"They consented?" Minato's voice betrayed no hint of emotion.

"That is not relevant, is it?" Danzou stated evenly. "And you," he didn't look up at Kushina. "I'll have someone file your temporary residency papers. Consider it a gift, for an… ally."

"I—" Kushina started to protest, her face very white. The Hokage fixed her with a grim stare, indicating it was anything but her choice to make. Peering sideways, the indignant redhead caught the look on Minato's face and wisely shut up.

"Good." Danzou's thin lips stretched into a smile that was almost beatific. "I will notify Uzushio, which I'm sure will be most... accommodating. You two may leave, now."

As eager as Minato was to leave, Kushina actually whipped around so fast that he felt the whiplash from her long, now back-to-red sweep of hair. A bit bedazzled, the blonde jounin bowed stiffly to Danzou, before quickly chasing after the crimson streak of angry kunoichi. His legs took the stairs three to four at a time, but it seemed that Kushina had decided to sidestep the unfamiliar architecture of the Hokage tower completely and jump out a window. Minato waited for a few moments before he activated his Hiraishin no jutsu.

Kushina was almost at the edge of the nearest training fields when he materialized in front of her. Her storm grey eyes were bright against her flushed skin, her red hair in disarray and, when Minato grabbed onto her shoulders to prevent her from escaping further, he realized that she was trembling.

The normally fearless whirlpool kunoichi slapped away his hands, before walking briskly away.

What was _wrong_ with her? Disguising her looks with a weak henge no jutsu and then turning the white as a sheet as soon as the Hokage found out her identity (obviously, he would have seen through the henge sooner or later). Sure, Minato himself wasn't sure of the true extent of Danzou's abilities. That is, no one in Konoha was absolutely sure—in a way, the mystery was what made him formidable, unlike the shinobi reputations his predecessors had built up for themselves before assuming office.

"Wait," he called.

She didn't.

"Damn you. Stop following me," she spat, never bothering to turn around as she kept pace. Her voice trembled.

Minato said nothing in return. He was never good at comforting people. His friends pegged him as Mr. Nice Guy all throughout school because he understood and practiced social convention just fine. Maybe in offering advice, or saying a few clichéd aphorisms about silver linings, he was golden, but the sight of a weeping girl made him want to walk hurriedly away.

Well, now Danzou could add that to his personal file of Minato's growing list of vices.

The blonde let go of the Whirlpool girl's quivering shoulders awkwardly, unsure if she was going to start pummeling him or break down crying. Never in his life had he been so unsure of what to do with the other person. It was like a man-eating tiger (which Minato could deal with) had suddenly turned into a human girl—one of those fragile creatures that tried to confess to him at the Academy and broke down into sniffles when he turned them down.

"What's wrong?"

"Are you here to say, 'I told you so'," she muttered, facing away from him. Gingerly patting her back like one of his teammates, Minato shook his head as he tried to piece his scattered bits of information together.

Why had Uzumaki Kushina insisted on that thorough but useless transformation? He had promised that he would not reveal her true name unless the Hokage asked her directly, but Danzou seemed to have known who she was, or at least recognized her lineage. Minato hadn't realized that pinpoint recognition was one of the Yondaime's special talents. Additionally, the Hokage had not even mentioned the forbidden jutsu scroll. Suppose that he thought it was lost anyhow? But the strangest of all phenomena was Kushina's own behavior around Konoha's leader. Sure, she was an enemy nin who had stolen a precious scroll, but the Whirlpool kunoichi had been the picture of confidence around him. Minato's ego tipped over a bit as he debated whether he really seemed _that_ much weaker than the current Hokage.

In filing all the information into his head, Minato remained lost in thought until he realized that Kushina had led them to the middle of the central training grounds. Closer to the main village than any of the other training lots, this was a popular place to practice and socialize. A lot of the Academy students and younger genin trained here frequently, but it was late enough at night that rarely a brave youth would train so close to the tangled woods nearby.

"I remember this place." Kushina's voice was uncharacteristically soft. She stood perfectly still next to him, her face impassive. Then, she turned to look at him expectantly. In the dark, her large, limpid eyes seemed to reflect the full moon.

A foreboding sense of nostalgia gripped Minato as he tried to make sense of Kushina's statement. _This place?_ He scanned the rows and rows of training posts, solitary and uniform like units of standoff-ish soldiers, and beyond to the dark border trees, which rustled menacingly in a sharp gust of wind.

"You visited these grounds with your delegation, then," he guessed

She averted her gaze. "No."

"...Met a guy here?" Sometimes, Minato overhead his female Academy classmates twittering about the latest heartthrob they were stalking near the training posts. Usually, he was the favored target.

She was silent with her back to him, before a well-aimed punch swung dangerously close, on a direct path to Minato's nose. He dodged it narrowly, but a swift sweep of her leg under his toppled them both to the ground.

They both hit the dirt with a soft 'oomph'. Minato wiped his mouth ruefully, tasting soil.

"Of course not, you chauvantic pig," Kushina growled. Apparently, she didn't take half-hearted humor well.

"Chauvinistic. And, um, you're not using the word correctly." Minato rolled quickly to his left so she couldn't reach over to take another swing at his face.

He turned to his side, cheek brushing the dirt as he eyed her profile. Her face shone with exertion, full lips pursed in exasperation as she stared at the glimmer of stars. A high flush colored her pale cheeks, and the clear, lucid stare of her grey eyes were mesmerizing. Minato swallowed heavily.

Uzumaki Kushina was like an exploding tag underneath all that false cool—a fun grab bag of mysteries that Minato pitied someone else to crack one day. He couldn't think of her as an enemy, he realized. Thinking back, some of his Academy classmates had been loud and brash, mostly because of easy upbringings blessed them with enough comfort in life to boast. Had Kushina's parents coddled her to become this foolish, or did she actually possess an exorbitant amount of intelligence and cunning? Honestly, Minato could not guess from her personality and near-bipolar demeanor what kind of past she had led. At times, her eyes betrayed such intensity that Minato felt he was only beginning to touch on the edges of her character. Honestly, she was intriguing, today just as ever, when the grubby red-haired kid had first visited all those years ago.

"Look, you're a hostage of Konoha," he said carefully, in a neutral tone. "I'm going to be gone starting tomorrow morning, so promise me one thing."

'_Stay safe,' _he thought.

"What?" she snapped. "I don't take orders from you."

"Promise me you'll stay away from Danzou," he blurted.

_'Huh.'  
_

_'Where had that come from?' _He'd meant to ask her to tell him for good if she'd actually discarded the scroll. That was the only reason they were keeping her here, wasn't it? The Hokage was an astute strategist, and could be a little militant and anti-foreigners, but hadn't he already promised her safe residency? She was under the rule of law, even if it was an increasingly martial form.

Kushina's face was unreadable. Her mouth twisted into a grimace, as if she found his well-meaning sentiment extremely distasteful.

"Don't underestimate me, loser."

"What a thing to say," he returned lightly, getting up on his elbows. "I don't remember being kidnapped by ANBU in your own room."

"I don't remember getting jelly-legs because of one little kiss," she smiled, one end of her mouth tugging higher than the other.

Minato felt his face grow warm, and rolled back over to face the other way. "That was—ah. I'm not as… experienced as you." Someone consider digging a hole and burying him in it now.

"What, girls from Konoha haven't jumped you and had their ways yet?" Kushina's eyebrow arched sarcastically. Her caustic tone belied volumes, but she looked much better and calmer now. Still laying on her back, she fidgeted slightly, discontent with discussing Minato's supposed love life.

A well-timed growl issued from someone's stomach. Both Kushina and Minato bolted upright.

"You know what, less talk, more action, Sunshine. I'm starving. Buy me something to eat, yeah?" As if on cue, her stomach growled again to express its agreement.

_Sunshine?_ Was that him? Minato swallowed his dignity, as he sized up his hostage turned personal ball-and-chain.

The right part of Kushina's was smudged with dirt, and her face had a strangely cute, beseeching look as she cocked her head to one side. Minato averted his eyes quickly.

"I promised you take-out sushi, didn't I?" he acknowledged.

He watched her smile bloom, full of childlike energy and nothing like the sultry killer from a few nights before. That's why it was so easy to bow to her whims, he rationalized. That and... he might as well splurge a little, on sushi. He would, after all, be subsisting on shinobi rations again starting tomorrow.

.

.

.

_Minato, having finished first in his class, was hiding from the mix of adoring and jealous stares that parents and students were shooting him with. Attention always made him a bit nervous. In that, he was made for the stealthy ways of a shinobi, content to observe the situation rather than be in the limelight. Luckily, he'd made his way onto roof of the Academy building without being seen, when a flock of raven-haired, white-eyed adults back on the ground caught his eye. They were dressed in elegant black robes, and they circled around a boy around Minato's age. He recognized it to be one of the Hyuga twins, also newly graduated. _

_Curious, Minato crawled silently to the edge of the roof. From his vantage point, he could hear the soft words of acknowledgement, simple but heartfelt, which were given to who he soon learned was Hyuga Hiashi. A vague sense of unfairness niggled at his conscience. Where was Hizashi? Why was he not in this circle? _

_One adult directed his stare straight at Minato, even though he was a good fifteen feet away, and perched on the Byakugan, right. Minato scrambled to get off the roof without making too much noise, only to be scolded by his mother when he got back home for dirtying his new shorts. _

_It was a week later that Minato caught the two twins having an argument under a large pine tree. _

_That day, he'd from a particularly grueling training session with his new jounin teacher, Jiraiya-sensei. The two of them had got off to a bad start. In a way, Jiraiya-sensei was everything Minato was not—the jounin was someone who genuinely worked at his success and learned from his numerous failures growing up. Minato breezed through almost everything he put his hand to, and earned admiration without understanding the superficiality of his own brilliance. As one of Jiraiya's teaching philosophies was for his students to be resilient, the bushy-haired man had gone particularly hard on the rumored Academy prodigy and thoroughly whooped Minato's butt with techniques the young genin had barely dreamed of. _

_Seething and tingling with excitement more than ever in his entire young life, Minato was lost in thought while perched up on the tree as he strategized ways to defeat his first challenging opponent in their next bout, before his tired bones and aching muscles forced the new genin asleep. The sound of shouting woke him up, and Minato peered below to figure out who was causing the racket below his favorite dozing spot. _

"_Back off, you wouldn't understand. All my happiness was taken away from me, to be given to you, the moment you left the womb first." _

_It was the Hyuga brothers, Minato realized with a start. No one but he and his brother spoke with such archaic, measured diction-not even the Uchiha, who barely spoke to other people at all. Peering closer, Minato saw that the speaker was indeed Hyuga Hizashi. The younger twin was clutching his forehead with a fierce look on his face, mirrored by his elder twin's stern frown. _

"_Shut your mouth, little brother. You should know better than to speak of such things now." _

"_You act high and mighty now… brother," Hizashi spat the word with loathing. "I have been bound by the mark since years ago, but you now have the power to activate whenever you desire. Things are completely different now. You are a Main member, while I am a Branch outcast." _

_Despite being somewhat tickled by their flowery speech, the icy weight of the words fell on him like snow crystals, and Minato was left wondering about the exchange, and all its connotations for such a prestigious, highly-regarded family. What a barbaric tradition._

_A cracked voice floated up to the tree branches. "You are my brother before anything else. Don't forget that."_

_Minato mused in the tree for about an hour, the image of Hiashi with tears in his eyes as he spoke his last line burned on the back of his eyelids. His stomach felt quite empty, so the blonde genin headed home to make himself dinner. That night, he'd been wandering to the training posts near the forest edge to get a bit more practice of the new kata Jiraiya had demonstrated in their fight. It was quite late. His mother would be hysterical if she'd known, but she was rarely home during business season, which had just started. _

_A rustling in the trees. A great shout of pain, and a flash of red. _

_The pieces floated together in and out of reality. Minato was unable to grasp the fragmented ends of his dream, although his senses screamed that these were clues to a great many things. _

.

.

.

When Minato woke to the sound of Kushina's restless shifting from the living room, the blonde jounin found it difficult to shake the weariness from his bone. It wasn't physical tiredness, but a shade of gloom that seemed to settle on every part of his body and sap away his determination to carry the mission through.

As if this wasn't enough, the journey to Kumogakure was mired by unexpected rocky ledges and dense, looming fog. When the fog lifted, rain fell from the sky in varying intensities. Minato had insisted on leaving alone to scope the terrain, but, of course, the Hokage had requested—_forced_—that he take backup. Two of the most experienced members of ANBU, elders who had been in the organization before Minato had become a chunnin, were accompanying. Their dragon and phoenix masks were a bit unnerving compared to Minato's own unmasked face, which, at the moment, dripped with rain.

The limp figure of Hyuuga Hizashi was riding on a makeshift stretcher made of chakra and wood. The two elder ANBU had taken turns piggybacking the unconscious Hyuuga between them, never letting Minato get close to their charge, although he had volunteered to share the burden a few times. It made Minato wonder just how much Danzou actually trusted him.

As they approached the halfway point destination indicated on the scroll, Dragon had taken the time to create the wooden stretcher for the sodden, kimonoed figure. The fake heir of Hyuuga looked small and frail.

Glancing at the pale face of the young man about his age, whose death-like pallor was made paler by the chill, Minato felt an odd pulse of resentment and pity course through him, though he was unable to target it at anyone in particular. It was unbecoming of a shinobi, he knew, to have feelings that would be directly in the way of the mission.

He steered his mind to more light-hearted thoughts. Somehow, the first thing that came up was Uzumaki Kushina—eating a candy car without using her hands. She was probably eating all the food in his apartment right now, while preparing a death trap for him once he returned home. She was a strange girl, all right. Minato had felt a strange tension in the room when she had first met the Hokage, but he couldn't put his finger on it. It was more than a bit relieving to know that she was in the village, under custody, but with enough freedom to move around inside its walls as much as she like.

A particularly fat drop of rain shimmied down Minato's nose.

"Is this where we're meeting them?" Phoenix grunted, his mood clearly foul.

"Yes, according to the scroll. Though it's hard to tell." Minato tried to peer through the light rain at the misty horizon.

"They're late," Phoenix spat.

Minato understood some of his teammate's frustration. It wasn't like this trip was not mainly for Kumo's benefit. If they didn't want the body, then why demand and nearly threaten a war over it in the first place?

"No, they're here." Dragon's low, indistinct voice informed them.

Swiveling his head at a near impossible angle, Dragon faced toward a scattering of shrubbery beyond their soppy wet selves mired in the muddy field.

Squaring his shoulders, Minato attempted to listen for sounds of movement in the trees beyond the shower of rain. Without his proper sense of hearing, and with his eyesight similarly impaired by fog, this was the perfect chance for ambush. But that wasn't what they were told by the mission briefing. There was actual business to be done.

"Hey, come out!" Phoenix shouted. "We know you're here. Let's get this over with!"

With bated breath, the blonde jounin watched as five Kumo ninja materialized out of the soft curtain of rain. It was impossible to tell if they were chunnin or jounin, but by the fluid, practiced way that they moved together, Minato could tell they were part of a specialized unit. Probably a special ambush or assassination unit.

Huh, guess Kumogakure wasn't taking chances after all.

The Kumo shinobi wore deep grey and white ensembles, and their eyes were obscured by goggles or headgear. They seemed to come close, about five feet away from the Konoha nin, in just a few seconds. Minato felt strangely envious of their grace in the muddy, squelching terrain. The one with a red bandana fastened around his neck, presumably the leader, motioned toward the prone body between Phoenix and Dragon.

"This is him," Dragon confirmed. "Hyuga Hiashi, heir of Konohagakure's elite Hyuga clan."

The Kumo shinobi seemed to nod their heads and confer with each other silently, as if orchestrating their next move. For a few tense seconds, Minato thought they were going to pounce on them. His fingers slid with practiced ease toward the shuriken in his leg holster.

_Ready._

"Good. Our country is grateful that Konoha has chosen to honor its promises." It took Minato a second to realize that the Kumo team leader had spoken. His mouth was covered with a black face mask.

"You may carry him if you wish." Dragon stepped away from the stretcher and Hizashi's body. "This shows our trust. However, we wish to accompany you to your capital. The Hyuga require that he has a proper ceremony in his death."

Right. The Hyuga clan, not Konoha. And Danzou just wants us to sneak a look at your plans, Minato added mentally. He said aloud, "Hyuga-san led an honorable life."

"Of course," the Kumo squadron leader nodded curtly at Minato, before he paused, seeming to take in Minato's sopping blonde hair and sullen facial features. If Minato could have seen the man's eyes, he would have seen them narrow in recognition.

"And our shinobi leader also led an honorable life, Yellow Flash. An even trade, no?"

Minato didn't reply. To be honest, the tall, skinny man creeped him out a wee bit. Plus, Dragon and Phoenix didn't seem the type that would save his ass if five Kumo nin decided to jump him at the same time.

It was an hour and a half journey to the village center of Kumogakure. The whole process, though uphill, went much more smoothly when the Kumo nin guided them through the cloudiest parts of the terrain, towering cliffs that Minato hadn't even seen standing a fifteen yards away. It was like the misty curtain parted especially for these guys, he thought.

There were two Kumo ninja flanking him, one on either side. A little scrap of Minato's ego noticed smugly that Dragon and Phoenix only had one per. Whether or not they actually thought the Yellow Flash was the greater threat was a mystery, of course. It was probably because the catchy title had just found its way to various countries. In Minato's opinion, there was very little hard evidence that he was stronger than certain shinobi in Konoha-as many active in the force had little time to spar with each other. Another reason for the Yellow Flash's fame was likely his fighting style. He just worked better solo than most ninja, Minato supposed, and was admittedly very young for his rank and title.

When they arrived, they were given coarse hooded cloaks and taken through the winding streets without any fanfare. Minato supposed this was because of the tension between the two countries. Kumo was Konoha's main rival, as a large militant force with far-reaching influence into other lands beside the arid steppes. Danzou had chosen well to not induce war between the two countries, even at the cost of sacrificing a member of one of the oldest clans of Konoha. What was one man in the face of countless casualties if it came to full out war?

Minato's brain digested the logic, even if he felt bile rising up his throat every time a Kumo shinobi on the street smirked at him in a knowing way—as if they were saying, what did it matter, his title, his jutsu, anything. He couldn't even save an old Academy classmate.

Shouldn't, Minato told himself firmly. Shouldn't was different from couldn't.

The people of Kumo had dark, wind-burned complexions and light hair. Some wandered about the street, other cracked open tiny windows of pale fortified rock houses, peering with dark eyes toward the passing delegation. Many Kumo shinobi wore goggles, perhaps due to the unpredictable weather, or because they specialized in bright, bedazzling lightening techniques. Minato had never met the Raikage, but he'd heard a bit of the famous A-B duo as well as several Kumogakure combat squads that were feared throughout the nations beyond the Land of Lightning.

They passed by several broken down residential units and training grounds before arriving at a small building connected to a larger compound carved into the mountain, a structure that Minato assumed was for large state affairs. After meandering through several corridors, the whitewashed room the Kumo escort brought them into was separated the hall into which the Kumo squad had carried Hyuga's body. Minato shuffled in behind Dragon and Phoenix, examining the new quarters warily. Bulbs of wire laced from the chipped walls, like pink stretched sinew. The room was no more than twenty feet by twenty feet, and there were two simple wooden chairs in the corner.

Phoenix sat down in one of the chairs, running a hand through newly dried locks of hair. Minato and Dragon remained standing, and the younger man stole curious looks at the young escort, who was shuffling uncomfortably being in the room with three Konoha ninja.

"When can we meet the Raikage?" Phoenix asked, impatience lacing his voice. "Our agreement."

"I understand." The escort had a deep, raspy voice, which mad Minato think he was older than his small frame suggested. "Raikage-sama will come after he confirms the body is real. He is currently in deliberation, so please be patient."

Minato nodded. That sounded fair enough, with convoluted paranoid logic. Not that Kumo would ever know the truth of the matter. As Konoha had planned, Hizashi's Byakugan would lock itself away from prying scientists the second they killed the Branch twin. And that was what Minato, Phoenix, and Dragon were here to do, after all—ensure that the death happened properly.

"I request usage of the bathroom," Dragon stated, nodding toward the Kumo escort.

Minato, not especially overcome by an urge to pee, but certainly willing to try to wash the traveler's grime from his face before he met the Raikage, seconded the motion.

"It's down the hall to your right, but go one at a time." If any of the Konoha shinobi were surprised that the escort was not following them, or sending another person to watch the three with him, they said nothing.

"Thanks," Minato said. No harm in being polite.

His teammate didn't respond, merely stalked out of the room.

"Uh, nice place you got here," Minato tried again, and was rewarded with a nod and silence. Friendly small talk seemed to only confuse the Kumo man, and from his seated position in the corner, Phoenix's mask drooped as if he was going to take a nap.

After what seemed like much longer than it was, Dragon returned to the room to find it filled with awkward silence. Glad to escape the stifling atmosphere, Minato swiftly exited the doorway, turning to his right in search for the toilet. Honestly, why did Danzou lump Minato in with this team of elder ANBU? Was it to watch him suffer through the diplomacy, give him a taste of the other Kage's, or expose him to whatever that "darkness" lecture was about?

He swallowed the strange feeling rising in his throat, and walked into the bathroom to find a single room with a washbasin and toilet, though no toilet paper.

Turning to the faucet, Minato noted the billowing pile of very clean, unused toilet paper at the topmost layer of the trash bin. What a waste. Inoichi used to prank all the girls in class by stalking into the girl's bathroom and ripping out all the toilet paper. Sometimes he'd not use up the paper, but rather write crude messages in pencil on the sheets.

Minato peered a bit closer at the top layer of paper, which had four wet dots on it, each about the size of a fingertip and spaced evenly in the center of each sheet.

Interesting.

The marks were quickly drying out. Grasping the ribbon of toilet paper, he carefully flipped it over to find a light pencil scrawl along the white sheet.

_Bird will fly away._

Minato read it two more times, making sure it said "birds" and not "turds". He let the paper drop back into the pile, turned on the faucet, and splashed his face with cool water, as he turned and tossed the cryptic message over in his mind, trying to decipher its meaning.

As he stalked back to the room, one thought stuck out in his mind. _Phoenix _would die. Or he would betray Konoha's plan. Either way, someone needed to keep a close eye on him. It seemed Dragon had let him in on information that only he knew, but how? Had Minato failed to notice any signs along the way? Maybe this was something only two ANBU members who'd worked as long and as closely together would know about each other. Some tell-tale sign, some signal that the third wheel had missed.

When he got back to the small room, Phoenix was nowhere to be seen. '_Where would he go?'_ This only served to heighten Minato's suspicions. Dragon was sitting in the chair previously occupied by the other masked ANBU. The younger jounin imagined he saw Dragon nod almost imperceptibly at him, before the older ANBU spoke in a deep tenor.

"Take me next."

"Yes, we have cleared an observation room for you now," the petite Kumo escort replied evenly.

Seeing the confusion on the Minato's face, the man turned to Minato and explained what was going on. "The Raikage would like to invite you three to see the Hyuga man one last time. You will be put into three separate compartments, for reasons of safety and comfort."

The escort left with Dragon following close behind. Minato shifted in the empty room, a bit uncomfortable, as he waited for someone to lead him to the (did they really say) "observation" area. He played with the idea of running out to investigate the compound, but who knew when the Kumo shinobi would come looking for him and not finding him?

A tanned Kumogakure kunoichi came for Minato after what felt like an eternity, and he followed her out the door and down the halls, marveling at her somewhat "chatty" nature. It reminded him of Kushina.

"You're the third one, but definitely the best looking." Her manner of speaking was flippant, but with a lazy drawl. Her cat-like hazel eyes slanted his way as she walked ahead briskly. She led him to one of the closed rooms down a long curving corridor. Minato waited for her to enter—most likely, there would be some gimmick to safely open any of these rooms so close to the center of Kumogakure state affairs. Sure enough, the kunoichi charged her hand with a deep blue chakra, and palmed the silvery doorknob, before opening the door with a soft click.

"This is the observation area?" he asked before he stepped through the threshold.

"No, you can see the observation deck through the glass."

The room they had entered had large bay windows ceiling to floor on one wall, allowing not an scenic outdoors view, but rather an overlook of an immense auditorium with a mezzanine that was several feet below this private observation booth. The auditorium was roughly 100 by 300 yards.

Minato peered to the other side of the glass, and spotted Hyuga Hizashi's body (posing as Hyuga Hiashi's body) laid out onto a table at the end closest to him, on the ground floor of the auditorium. A few figures robed in white were talking amongst themselves close to Hyuga's figure-medics, probably. The balcony slightly above the ground floor was occupied by people, mostly standard-attired-shinobi. Minato saw a small congregation on the opposite side of his cell.

The Raikage.

Minato didn't need to see his face to know that it was him. The man's girth, but, most importantly, the way the other people milled about close but with some distance, with him at the center, spoke volumes about the status of Kumogakure's leader. There were a few men near the Raikage, two of which shared slightly unusual uniforms, which matched with each other but was not the standard attire that most Kumo shinobi sported. All of the people in the crowd were talking and occasionally pointing down toward the prone figure of Hyuga Hizashi.

"Is that your leader?" Minato pointed.

"Raikage-sama, you mean," the kunoichi purred. "And I bet you're wondering about those two closest to him. That's A-sama and B-sama."

"A and B," he repeated dully. He really wasn't wondering about the two figures next to the Kage, but it was a wise move by the Kumo kunoichi to brag to him anyway. Every jounin in Konoha knew who they were, and not few were afraid of the infamous duo. Word was that Kumogakure had just found a new "B" to complement their prized hitman.

"Excuse me, but how long should I stay here to observe?" He needed to get back to Dragon and, more importantly, Phoenix. They were hopefully in separate observation rooms, unharmed and following orders.

"The Raikage will assemble his council in an hour, maybe more." She cocked her head sideways. "Why? You can always go celebrate with our shinobi."

'_Celebrate what?' _he thought. '_That Konoha had to sacrifice a soldier, a brother, to satisfy Kumo's greed?' _

"Right," he stalled. "The occasion is…"

The Kumo kunoichi's cat-like eyes narrowed at him in exasperation. "For the Yellow Flash, you're awfully slow. Our countries just signed a peace treaty, didn't we?"

Ah, so she knew who he was.

Did that mean they knew about his jutsu… Minato glanced at the now closed doorway, and thought back to the chakra signature that the kunoichi had used to unlock it. Minato would probably not gain much from trying to bust out of the room himself, and he wouldn't find out where his teammates were without his escort's help.

"I guess I'll go join the party early, then."

"You guess," she imitated. Minato had a sudden vision of red-hair and large, mocking grey eyes.

She led him to a room a few doors down that was half-filled with Kumo shinobi. The men and women were gathered in pockets, clapping each other on the back, talking in animated tones, and generally acting far too much like Konoha shinobi to make Minato completely comfortable. It would be better if they could play the part of an unwelcoming foreign enemy.

Tension in the room seemed to spike upon Minato's entrance. Whispers of the _'Kiiroi Oni'_ –Yellow Demon—were uttered and quickly muffled. The first few rows of people near the doorway stared at Minato, their happy faces freezing when they saw his Konoha hitae-ate and his spiky blonde hair. It was like a ripple effect—within seconds, all the shinobi in the room were alerted of the Yellow Flash's presence.

"Yo."

_Phoenix. _

Minato saw the distinct Konoha ANBU mask emerge from the far opposite corner of the room, parting the crowd of Kumo nin. Phoenix had apparently joined the party earlier than he did. Sheesh. Why had the Kumo nin been comfortable enough around him? Sometimes, Minato disliked his title a touch—people held expectations of him before he'd even met them. Minato flashed his teammate a curt smile, idly wondering if he'd ever get to see the man without his mask. Probably never. Despite Minato's history of uncanny charm with his team members and peers, even some ANBU, both compatriots on this mission had not warmed up to him in the least.

"Is Dragon here?" Minato asked, moving closer to his fellow Konoha shinobi.

Phoenix shook his head in response. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but a fox-faced woman with tawny hair that looked to be in her late twenties or early thirties walked up to Minato and extended a gloved hand. Minato eyed her warily, and Phoenix, ever unfriendly, moved away from the proffered hand to stand behind Minato.

"The treaty is signed," the stranger said, open-faced and smiling pleasantly. "It's good to be allies with Konoha. Let's shake on it."

_One, two, three, shake. _

It was simple.

In his mind's eye, as clearly as if it were before him, Minato saw a quivering, white hand extended toward him from the operating table. Hizashi's. He saw the black-gloved hand attached to the Kumo agent, waiting for his shake of final agreement. He didn't know which was real, which was a shadow of his true obligations. There was a moment of doubt before he felt the pieces fall in place in his head.

In his mind, he already knew. There was a reason Danzou was Hokage, and someone like him was not, and perhaps, maybe, would never be. The Yellow Flash was no more envoy than he was a true shinobi, ready to sacrifice Hizashi for the sake of peace.

_I dare you to move, _a voice in the back of his head taunted.

'_Hyuga Hizashi deserves happiness'_, Minato thought stubbornly… no, stupidly. There was no room for "deserve" or "not deserve" in real life. Not his, anyway.

_Do it._

Honestly, the blonde twenty-year old had no idea why, at this particular moment, all his carefully honed instincts failed him. All his experiences as ANBU, as a shinobi who executed missions with deadly accuracy, fled and revealed his pathetically weak resolve.

'_Maybe Dragon will do it when he gets here.' _The stubborn reply flitted through his brain, and Minato felt shame burn in his ears. He would not allow his naïveté to get in the way of success.

The young jounin tried to move his hand, but the muscles in his arm felt like lead, and the gloved hand seemed to move farther away, as if on another plane of existence.

_You've got no darkness in you, boy. _

It sucked to prove Danzou right. The extended hand felt so very far away, that even Hiraishin could not reach it.

"Why are you hesitating?" Phoenix growled in a low voice behind him.

Minato couldn't hear, but he could feel the rush of air against the back of his neck as the Konoha ANBU attacked.

_Crrrack._

His motor functions jolted alive, like electricity pumped through his veins. An ice-cold splash of pure instinct kicked in, and man felt no more remorse than if he were a machine. Minato twisted the assailant's arm behind his back. In a heartbeat, he'd ripped the Phoenix mask off.

The face of a tanned man who looked to be in his late thirties stared back at him.

The Yellow Flash's fingers gripped at his exposed throat.

His other hand let the pieces of the Phoenix mask fall, halves of a face cracked cleanly in two.

"How did you know I wasn't your comrade?" the assassin snarled, eyes like saucers, transfixed on the sight of a transformed Minato, who stared back passively. "What gave me away?"

There were at least a dozen kunai pointed at Minato's throat, at point blank range. The woman who had seconds ago showed him such a friendly face had a blade pointed straight at his throat. Honestly, the young jounin couldn't care. Yes, he hadn't expected this. Dragon's message had spurred him to think that Phoenix was double-crossing them, and that's why he'd been wary at the first notice of a sudden movement behind him, but he'd had no idea there had been a switch with a Kumo ninja somewhere along the way. Minato wasn't even 100% sure that this was not Phoenix, as he'd never seen the man without his mask. Of course, Kumo didn't know that. What was more, the shade of hair color was the same, although Minato could be reasonably sure that not many Konoha natives had such skin color and facial structure.

"Don't move, or I'll kill him and all the other people in this room," Minato said simply.

His voice was soft, gentle—almost. The assailant felt a chill run through his spine as the truth of the title 'Demon' dawned on him. Words on pages in a book flashed through as his eyesight grew hazy.

_Page 14._

_Konoha's Yellow Flash. _

_Male. Estimated 20 years old. _

_Golden hair. _

_Blue eyes. _

_Further instruction: Flee on sight._

The exposed weapons of the Kumo ninja seemed to quiver in the air. None of them called the blonde demon's bluff.

"Now, tell me… where did you take my teammate?" Minato pressed harder against not-Phoenix's neck. He waited for the man's mouth to foam, patient and quite willing to let the seconds tick by while he executed his job as cleanly as possible. New, scuffling noises of alarm could be heard near the doorway behind Minato. Probably reinforcements on Kumo's side.

He felt the vocal cords tense and the assassin's adam's apple struggle to move, so his fingers relaxed to let enough air into the throat to allow speech.

"We killed him. The guy let down his guard when he took a tour of our facilities," the imposter gritted out.

The man wasn't lying. Danzou had instructed the team of three to check out the underground areas that were rumored to house Kumogakure's most powerful shinobi, who were trained to host a mythical, near-demon-like power. Minato hadn't bought into the likelihood of such a thing existing, but Phoenix had likely gone off investigating by himself, thinking he would please the Hokage with his discovery.

"Where is Hyuga Hiashi?"

Hazel pupils dilated. Mouth frozen in a silent shout as Minato pressed his fingers into bronzed skin.

He really didn't know, Minato realized.

And then someone threw a shuriken with deadly precision, headed straight for the blonde youth's left eye. One of the new entrants apparently didn't respect bluffs in Minato's favor. With a quick twist to the side, the Yellow Flash teleported away from the scene.

—And landed straight onto the toilet seat of the bathroom.

His mind was clear. But no longer icy cold.

Rushing to the trash bin, Minato riffled through the paper in hopes that Dragon had left him another message. Anything. It was a five to ten percent chance at best that the man had thought to communicate with his teammate. But something told him that Dragon was taking his orders directly from Danzou, and there was a lot they weren't telling either him or the now deceased Phoenix.

Sure enough, there it was, a few feet of toilet paper down the initial thread. Characters in equally small pencil. _I will take the body_, it read.

Body.

Bird.

Fly away.

The truth dawned on Minato, as he realized his earlier mistake with a start. Dragon hadn't written him a new message. This was a continuation of the old one. Part two of the original code, but clearer and thus much more dangerous for the enemy to learn. There were likely more water droplets or something indicating the continuation of the message, but they had probably dried out before Minato had been able to find the notes.

_Bird will fly away_ wasn't a reference to Phoenix at all. Minato had gotten it all wrong, though luck had given grave importance to his misinterpretation. However, Dragon's original message was a reference to the caged bird sign of the Hyuga house. The sign that Minato had seen Hyuga Hizashi clutch on his forehead that day he'd perched in the tree and eavesdropped.

Hyuga Hizashi would be removed from Kumo's clutches, and by Dragon, likely with orders from higher up. But why? Did that mean the treaty fell apart? Minato didn't have much longer to analyze things. He removed the seal that he'd placed earlier from the back of the toilet seat, and concentrated on his next move. Getting out of here, was the easiest option. But he needed to buy time for Dragon to carry out his orders and take Hizashi's body back.

A strange exultation bloomed and leapt in Minato's chest, to know that the Hyuga would get another chance at happiness, and, more importantly, Hyuga Hiashi would not live with the bitter legacy of what he'd caused—his brother's death. That outcome would now forever be another history, an alternate path unwritten.

He took the time to rip up the pieces of toilet paper with the pencil clues, before washing his hands in the sink. He was just drying off when, with a large bang, the wooden door of the bathroom came crashing down in pieces on the tiled floor. Wooden splinters became projectiles with the force of the blow, battering the opposite wall, clattering off the porcelain.

Removing his arm from where it shielded his face, the Konoha jounin looked up to stare straight into dark goggles and a male's tanned face.

"Couldn't knock or wait patiently?"

Apparently, the (even younger than him, Minato realized with a start) Kumo shinobi could take a joke, even if Minato had only tried to stall for time.

"Nah." The boy began chuckling before adjusting the black goggles on his eyes and getting into a battle stance. Minato realized he'd seen him before, among the group of people close to the Raikage on the observation deck—B.

_Did he know what had happened?_

"Look, I don't want to fight you. We're allies, right?" Minato lied smoothly.

"You're okay, man, but diplomacy yo—ain't fair 'n it ain't fun." The young Kumo shinobi had an odd way of speaking. And he did something strange with his hands, not a jutsu seal Minato recognized, but some sort of rhythmic signaling.

The enemy's next move was something he would have been ill prepared for if Jiraiya-sensei hadn't regularly practiced summons with him before the Toad Sage had left the village. A red-ish, overgrown squid-like limb slammed through the doorway and launched itself at the Konoha jounin, complete with bulbous suckers and a monstrous wave of demonic chakra. When the cloud of debris cleared, a few shuriken were stuck into the red flesh, but it was a futile effort on the part of the Yellow Flash.

Killer B, for that was exactly who he was, shook the projectiles off of his monstrous limb, a casual grin on his face.

"You ready, Bro?"

"You're right," Minato agreed after dodging the next attack narrowly by flipping onto the sink countertop. "This isn't fun, uh, Bro."

.

.

.

* * *

**Suzu: Reviews go toward keeping an unemployed student lighting metaphorical matches full of dreams this winter. **

**Drop a line below!  
**


	4. Kill Me Softly

**Suzu: To my readers—thank you. You guys are awesome. **

**In order to appreciate the foreshadowing, I would read from the first chapters again, when you get the chance. Also, um… like the energizer bunny, I run on reviews. If you enjoy the story, please review after you read?**

**One more thing: as a preemptive measure to questions: Itachi hasn't been born yet, so... That's all. Enjoy.**

* * *

.

**- Vainglory -**

04: Kill Me Softly

.

"_A sword never kills anybody; it is a tool in the killer's hand." _

_._

_Seneca_

* * *

_RECAP:_

_He was just drying off when, with a large bang, the wooden door of the bathroom came crashing down in pieces on the tiled floor. Wooden splinters became projectiles with the force of the blow, battering the opposite wall, clattering off the porcelain. Removing his arm from where it shielded his face, the Konoha jounin looked up to stare straight into dark goggles and a male's tanned face._

_"Couldn't knock or wait patiently?"_

_Apparently, the (even younger than him, Minato realized with a start) Kumo shinobi could take a joke, even if Minato had only tried to stall for time. _

_"Nah." The boy began chuckling before adjusting the black goggles on his eyes and getting into a battle stance. Minato realized he'd seen him before, among the group of people close to the Raikage on the observation deck—B._

_Did he know what had happened?_

_"Look, I don't want to fight you. We're allies, right?" Minato lied smoothly. _

_"Man, you're okay, but diplomacy yo—ain't fair 'n it ain't fun." The young Kumo shinobi had an odd way of speaking. And he did something strange with his hands, not a jutsu seal Minato recognized, but some sort of rhythmic signaling._

_The enemy's next move was something he would have been ill prepared for if Jiraiya-sensei hadn't regularly practiced summons with him before the Toad Sage had left the village. A red-ish, overgrown squid-like limb slammed through the doorway and launched itself at the Konoha jounin, complete with bulbous suckers and a monstrous wave of demonic chakra. When the cloud of debris cleared, a few shuriken were stuck into the red flesh, but it was a futile effort on the part of the Yellow Flash._

_Killer B, for that was who he was, shook the projectiles off of his monstrous limb, a casual grin on his face. "You ready, Bro?"_

_"You're right," Minato agreed after dodging the next attack narrowly by flipping onto the sink countertop. "This isn't fun, uh, Bro."_

.

.

.

The boy from Kumo apparently knew chakra manipulation—and he had an enormous quantity of chakra, to boot. Stinging static bolts crackled from the quivering suckers of the squid-like limb. One loose spark of electricity struck him in the chest, and Minato's lungs seized uncontrollably. Paralyzing pain gripped him for but a split second. That was all the enemy needed.

Vision swimming, Minato flung himself to the left. Just in time, too, as B's tentacle crashed against the tiled wall behind him. Crumbling from top to bottom, the wall fell away like children's building blocks, the debris shattering the mirror and exposing water pipes, which drenched the Yellow Flash from head to toe.

_Well, fuck._

Thoughts racing, Minato prepared a counter-strategy.

He couldn't take another electric-based attack, not as wet as he was now. And he didn't have many weapons, not after going through Kumo's inspection to get into this building. In the tiny bathroom, there was nowhere to run, and against enemy shinobi plus a giant malignant tentacle, Minato had more than an inkling of the fact that he was hugely disadvantaged.

Charging forward, only to teleport to a point on the squid's leg, was all good and fine, but the narrow confines of the bathroom meant that teleportation and speed would not give him a way to maneuver around the enemy. That, and his chest still hurt like hell. The spasms of his nerves made precision of his attack that much trickier. The insistent pinprick of pride, however, kept him from bolting like a good ninja should have. He could almost here Jiraiya-sensei calling him an idiot. Speaking of which… Sensei… Minato could take a leaf out of the man's book right now. No one was as creative as the pervert.

"Hey," called Minato, feeling slightly stupid at this gamble. "Knock knock."

Killer B didn't respond, per excellent ninja training to not fall into enemy traps, physical or verbal.

But Minato had read B entirely right, it seemed.

The small window of opportunity had already presented itself. The space of time it took for the Kumo nin's brain to register and block out a strong natural instinct to respond was _tiny_, a split second, but the Yellow Flash was still faster. And here Minato found his point of entry.

A light tap.

_Gotcha._

Then, another jolt of pain, as the static surrounding the tentacle shot up Minato's wet skin. This time, it was not his lung, but his heart that seized.

But now Minato had marked Killer B. It was an even trade.

Neither of the two shinobi had the ability, or, in Minato's case, the will, to deliver the finishing blow. He had nothing against Killer B. Phoenix's death was not his to avenge, and he did not want to kill in anger, nor in desperation. Thus, there was no more need to stay. Minato clamped down on the remaining spot of pride in his gut, chasing down the raw thrill of facing an unknown enemy, and told himself to get the hell out of here.

Looking back at the expression of shock that had yet to wear off from B's face, Minato teleported.

—Out into the open plateaus outside of Kumogakure's walls.

It was good timing. Almost. An explosion of rubble shocked the walls of stone as the seismic shaking caused the surrounding cliffs to rain chunks of rock. In his lingering nausea, Minato wagered that this was what it felt like to have a sizable force from Kumogakure on his heels—either that or the dogs of hell.

The sky had darkened, and it remained ominously cloudy, with peeks of light flashing through in crackling veins of vivid yellow. Between that and the hail of rocks, Minato didn't know what was worse. Honestly, call it a dumb premonition, but he felt like one of the jagged lighting bolts would hit him any second. The Yellow Flash hit by a yellow flash. It was a befitting end, really.

While dodging boulders, he tried to clear his thoughts. He needed to whittle his agenda down to the necessities. Right. First, find his teammates (one remaining teammate, he corrected himself). Unfortunately, using Hiraishin to teleport again came at a cost, if his depleting chakra levels were any indication. Minato weighed the costs and benefits of doing so for a split second, concentrating on mustering the chakra in order to perform his jutsu.

_Hiraishin no ju—_

Next thing he knew, the Konoha jounin felt the wind being knocked out of his midsection as a colored blur hit him in the ribs, hard. The force of impact expelled nearly all the air in his lungs in one swoosh.

Well, it was just not his day.

Hair dripping and plastered to his face uncomfortably, Minato contented himself with staring blankly at the black of the back of his eyelids for two seconds, gathering his strength, ribs now stinging more than he would've cared to notice.

When Minato opened his eyes again, there was a chunk of solid grey rock about three feet in diameter just to his right. He looked a bit further, and saw another, more massive boulder. It was crumbling fast.

But what really caught his attention was a red blur floating hazily above as his disoriented vision adjusted.

Minato opened his mouth. Closed it.

Words tumbled out. Something along the lines of "This doesn't happen in real life." This was some _deus ex machina_, but surely from hell. (Next, kami-sama would be telling him to go commit suicide by falling in love with _her_.) Because, here he was, the Yellow Flash, lying on his back on the ground, with Whirlpool's likely loudest kunoichi having just saved his life from a giant boulder, of all things.

None other than Uzumaki Kushina was staring down at him. Her face seemed to calculate his worth in saving, or abandoning out in the field, as if he was some fish she decided to save from a predator, only to consider throwing him back in.

"W-why're you here?" Minato tried to refocus his vision. "Are you… help?" He slapped himself mentally for his lack of coherence.

"Saving your sorry ass isn't my job, so save your bitching for Dragon-mask," Kushina replied brusquely.

Minato nodded, not trusting himself to chain words together anymore. He was still lying face-up, blinking at the dark edges creeping into his field of vision. Uzumaki Kushina's hair was like some sort of wildfire incarnate. In the drizzly mess of the Kumogakure morning, the color of a bloody sunrise snagged his gaze and wouldn't let go. The woman stood out like a beacon against everything else gray in the landscape.

He noted that she was taking in sharp gasps of air. She looked rather pained, and the blonde thought he saw faint scratch marks on her face.

"Thanks for moving me out of the way," he said, because, really, nausea and near-death experiences made him the nicest guy.

Kushina didn't reply as the seconds ticked by. Suddenly, the young woman crouched close to the ground, her arm slung around his neck in a choke-hold. He found it hard to breathe. Minato had to wrestle with the idea that Uzumaki Kushina was going to kill him, right here, before moving on to the Kumo ninja that were on his heels. Luckily, after a few seconds (or a few minutes?), she seemed to have forgotten about him; her eyes were distant, scanning the approaching enemy lines with a grim wariness. Minato craned his neck upward.

A small battalion of Kumo ninja were less than a hundred meters away. Fifty odd shinobi, some looking to be recently promoted chunnin, by the state of their standard issue coats.

"Try to die well," Kushina suggested icily.

Next thing he knew, Minato was dumped unceremoniously in the mud at her feet, as the red blur raced off into the mist.

Huh. So, it was abandonment, after all. He dragged himself up on his feet, less winded than a moment ago. Minato wasn't sure whether to feel ruefully amused or betrayed. Kushina wasn't Konoha's ally, and she wasn't _his_ enemy. What did that make them?

The Yellow Flash didn't have a chance to linger in his thoughts before eight different Kumo nin charged at him. They were the vanguard of the troop of fifty or so, and they were eager to claim the prize first. It was likely that whoever defeated the Yellow Flash would earn a legendary title for his own. If Minato had had a say in things—discuss the issue nicely over some tea or rations… damn, he was hungry—he would have told the ninja that a title really wasn't worth it. He couldn't count the number of mission requests he'd gotten right after he'd earned his own. It left one's private life in the ruts.

But there was no time for good-willed advice, and Minato found himself dodging two punches charged with deadly lightening chakra, before a swift kick landed dangerously near his heart. It connected with his right side instead, barely caressing the material of his vest. The impact would not have been strong enough to wound him normally, but the battle with B was still taking its toll. Minato coughed; his brain registered numbly that this was the first time in a _long_ while that he'd been physically injured in battle.

The sensation of pain triggered a not unfamiliar ice in his gut. With no more than two of his special kunai on hand, he knew what he had to do. It involved just half of his remaining chakra, and an honest part of Minato sincerely hoped that some of the younger Kumo shinobi would run. He wouldn't pursue them far, but—

—he always was an organized kid, and was strong believer of cleaning up his own messes.

No mercy._ Only the vain have room for mercy in combat. _

In the haze of battle, Danzo's words were crystal clear. He swallowed a rush of bile as a swift, heady rush of oxygen flooded his head. He tested the leaden weight of each struggling breath he inhaled in to injured lungs.

Konoha's Yellow Flash could afford no mercy. Not if Namikaze Minato wanted to live.

The seals bloomed from his fingers, each a step toward the final show of surrender from his opponents: death.

_"Run."_

He didn't know if that was his own voice, or the echoes of the words he saw formed on the mouths of the first twelve that he slaughtered in little under two seconds.

"Run!"

Ah. So that was the squad leader. And now the woman was gone.

"G-get backu—!" someone screamed, before Minato's kunai drove through that person's larynx.

No one could follow that order. The other thirty-eight were rooted in place, half in fear, half in a sickened, gruesome admiration for the perfect human weapon that struck like yellow lightening in a dance wet with red blood and sweat—_theirs_, not his—before a black, dark silence inevitably overtook them.

.

.

.

The dank basement passages of Kumogakure's oldest buildings were all connected. Previous Konoha intel had spent a lot of blood learning about the tunnel-like routes which were build with utility, not comfort, in mind. Each gray stone seemed carved of lightening, the edges were so rough and jagged. Occasional smooth patches revealed the passage of time, where water trickling down to the basement would wear away the stone.

Dragon felt the bundle he was carrying slip for the sixth time, but he quickly readjusted it… ah, _him_, rather. Hyuga Hizashi's blessing in this circumstance was that he was a thin, reedy fellow compared to Dragon's own bulk. The entire clan of Byakugan users didn't need heavy muscles and physical strength to inflict heavy damage on their opponent's chakra openings. Instead, a precise, graceful touch—almost like a dancers—enabled Hyuga men and women alike to train their bodies to be finely toned and light on their feet.

To be honest, Hizashi's body was more emaciated than toned.

Harsh, thin scars trailed the nerves and blood vessels like streaks in colored marble. A sign of over-training, likely. After all, male shinobi were not valued for their beauty. Luckily, neither were ANBU, or Dragon's title and senior position would have been stripped years ago.

With Hizashi slung over his shoulder like a doll, Dragon rushed to find the transportation seal that the Yellow Flash had placed at the exit of the building.

A sudden noise echoing in the dank corridors of the Kumo basement alerted the aged ANBU of danger. He'd already killed three Kumo shinobi—none of the tougher sort merely because Minato had drawn their attention away to the plains aboveground. Apparently, the Raikage did not run such a disciplined village that the Kumo nin stayed in their assigned guard positions. Quite a few good fighters were lulled away by the chance to take on the famed Yellow Flash. Sometimes, teaming up with a flashy upstart brat had its benefits.

The air in the dark pathway could be cut with a kunai, it was so thick. Dragon didn't breathe, didn't shift a muscle as he locked the arm that was holding Hizashi in place, his other free arm poised to swing his thrice-stained short sword.

He saw the red hair first.

It was already too late when Dragon noticed the thick chains of raw energy that seemed to shimmer before shooting out from the girl's very pores.

_Impressive_. The honest thought flashed through Dragon's mind even as the chains captured his limbs. It was chakra that was binding him, completely immobilizing his body. Pure chakra, but made into chains. Ordinary chakra could not be shaped like this—this kunoichi was not normal.

The look in this mystery girl's narrowed eyes was feral. Her deep-set eyes were gray or purple in the dark lighting. She had a twisted, gritted mouth that, unfurled, could be beautiful. And the red hair. Dragon could not place the combination of features.

One thing was certain. She did not look to be from Kumo.

"Hey…" the mystery-girl grimaced, but strangely, did not look _unhappy _to see him. Once she scanned him over with her eyes, and confirmed he was bound by her chains, a grin lit up her features. The smile was strangely fox-like.

"Are you the one called Dragon?"

Dragon's mask was on, so the question was reasonable. But the senior ANBU held his silence.

"If I let go of my chakra chains, will you promise to not punch me?" the girl pressed.

So it _was_ chakra.

"Maybe," he tested. "First, tell me your name."

"Kushina," she replied. "I'm an ally... for now."

Dragon didn't bother with trying to determine the truth of the statement. He was actively trying to find a pulse point in her chakra chains—a weak surge in energy that he could use to snap the chain in two, at the right moment. He found none.

Another clever brat, like Namikaze Minato.

"Okay," Dragon forced a relaxed pose. In a way, he was too old for this. The girl was the same age as his daughter, if he had ever decided to have a family and raise a daughter, that is. With his career choice in mind, it's not exactly as if he'd had time for either.

"I don't have much choice, and you don't look to be from Kumo," Dragon mused out loud.

"I'm not," she spat out, as if the thought of being from Kumo disgusted her. "But I'm not from f'king Konoha, either."

Her way of speaking was so rough. Dragon's old-fashioned sensibilities always flared up a bit at the younger ANBU's lack of manners when they joined the fold. Did all youngsters these days lose their class? At least the Yellow Flash was polite. But, right now, Dragon didn't have time for idle chit-chat.

"It doesn't matter to me where you're from, but if you want to escape from here alive, let's pool our resources," he baited.

The redhead's—Kushina, was it?—coy grin returned. "Exactly what I was thinking. Ya know…" her eyes darted to the unconscious Hyuga, to the floor, to the sides of the walls, as if a Kumo guard would come investigate the basement passageway any moment now. "Do me a favor, Dragon-old-man."

Old man? Young girls and their scary intuitions for his age. Maybe his voice gave him away. Maybe he should die his hair a darker color to hide the gray. Dragon shook his head. "You're a girl, are you not? Ask me nicely, Sweetheart."

Dragon was more than faintly amused when her face took on a red, tomato-like, but thoroughly murderous look. Then, her expression wavered, and her foxy cheer came back full force.

"Please," she gritted it out like a death threat. "Only you can help. You're a _mokuton_ user, correct?"

Dragon's eyes grew cold, all fake-affection lost.

This brat knew about his wood-element jutsu. Not many people knew, outside of Konoha's ANBU division. Even then, he could count the number on one hand.

"How did you know? Were you following us?"

She nodded quickly, but not from nervousness at being questioned harshly. Her eyes looked strangely unfocused. Dragon couldn't be sure in the lighting, but they appeared to be slitted and golden for a brief moment.

"Are you from another hidden village?"

"Originally," Kushina bit out. "I…" She suddenly let out a large huff of breath, as if talking was exhausting her. That, or maintaining her hold on the chakra chains. "I came from Konoha and followed you three. I think... I think your boss knows, s-so I'll be returning with you as well." Her face was beginning to glow from exertion.

The Hokage knew she was following them? Well, no matter. Dragon took one look at her mysteriously weakened state and sent a counterbalancing pulse of his own chakra energy to shatter the girl's bindings. The chain to his left arm broke. Once that arm was free, Dragon lobbed Hyuga Hizashi's nearly six-foot body at the girl.

"Here. Catch."

Her eyes widened, almost comical, as she stretched out her arms to catch the limp body, a faint snarl ripping from her lips.

"_H-hold it_. W-what was that for?!"

"You're not a bad person." Dragon concluded. He had relied on his intuition for crucial points in missions for over twenty years. A girl that would catch the body of an unconscious soldier was not an enemy. "I can help you, but only within limits. What do you need?"

She wasn't paying attention, but seemed to be fixated by the mark on Hizashi's forehead. "Ugh. Is he dead?" Kushina grimaced, and Dragon could almost see her as a normal girl. Almost.

"No, but he will be if we don't get him to Konoha." Dragon then repeated his earlier question. "So what do you need me for? State your terms."

After a pause, Kushina looked up to square him in the eye. "Just stay by me and _restrain me_."

That made no sense. "What do you mean?"

"I don't trust myself right now," Kushina said vaguely. "Something inside… has been acting up."

Her words only puzzled him more, but he took them in silently.

The redhead seemed satisfied with his silence. She plopped down onto the dirty wet floor and proceeded to examine Hyuga's body intently. Dragon watched, still unable to move his legs as her chakra chains were back in place around his ankles. He didn't think that throwing his knife or shuriken would do any good against whatever ritual this girl was now performing on Hyuga Hizashi's body. Dragon just hoped she wasn't going to (a) poke out Hizashi's eyes because then she could steal the Byakugan for herself, (b) kidnap the entire body for the same reasons mentioned in (a) or (c), proceed to eat the body, because cannibalism was just gross, and Dragon, from experience, did not at all enjoy witnessing it.

"I'll seal this guy as a return favor," she finally declared, brows scrunched in concentration. She whipped out a medium-sized scroll and brush, seemingly out of thin air.

In a matter of minutes, the body of Hizashi Hyuga was sealed neatly into a folded scroll.

"Fuck," said Dragon.

Kushina shook her head. "No. It's not a strong seal at all, because the living individual can jump out of the scroll at any time he wishes. This will also only hold for an hour, tops. But I can't do anything else without some sort of flesh sacrifice—this is basically eating up all my chakra already."

"An hour is all we need," Dragon informed her. "We have a transport seal to Konoha."

It was the truth. When the three Konoha shinobi had entered the building, Minato had placed a transport seal provided by the Hokage himself, for the benefit of the ANBU. It had drained some of the young man's chakra before the mission began, but it was worth it, to have an escape route in the heart of the Raikage's territory. As more pieces came to light, Dragon had to marvel at the larger picture of the mission. So the Hokage had placed every piece of this mission together like a shogi master, exacting utility out of every possible element.

_Every possible element. _Even the red-headed kunoichi that had followed them, apparently.

"Are you from a clan, Sweetheart?" he asked after she'd let go of the other chains binding his legs. Currently, he led them through the passageway toward the exit with the seal.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Kushina sighed. Overall, the redhead's mood seemed much improved, as if a large burden had been lifted off her shoulders. Although… periodically, with an interval of about three to five minutes, Dragon heard her breath hitch, as if she was fighting with pain from an internal wound. Or whatever she said was inside her. Yeah, she was probably crazy, and due for a psychotherapist checkup at her village's clinic.

Years of ANBU or not—Dragon wasn't heartless. But at the same time, he bargained ruthlessly with what he had. She needed him, for some odd reason he wasn't yet sure of. And yet, she wasn't about to go without his so-called-help. _Who was this girl? She could become his liability._ Grasping the scroll that contained Hyuga's body, Dragon delivered an ultimatum.

"Tell me your full identity. Or else I'm leaving you. I can't 'restrain you'."

Immediately, she turned around, so fast that her hair whipped the air around them. "_No 'ttebane!_ Stay!"

"Then tell me," he said calmly.

Kushina seemed to be running through all the risks involved in telling him her name. She paused briefly, before declaring:

"Yamakiri."

"Tribe in the North. Most of them have pink hair. Distantly related to a Konoha civilian family," Dragon rattled off. "Not good enough, Sweetheart. You'll have to try your lie again."

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Uzumaki... take it or leave it."

Dragon was old enough to know that the name was powerful in another land. The Uzumaki were feared fuin seal users from the Land of Whirlpool. He had no experience working with the people there. In the past, he'd used the seals that ROOT division would purchase from merchants who traveled along the winding trade routes from Whirlpool to Fire Country. These were simple, offering common but useful tricks—the seal tags to help store extra kunais or scrolls. Whirlpool had mass produced them for Konoha until about ten years ago, when relations between the countries had gotten rocky with the political "transitions" of both the Sandaime Hokage and Whirlpool Clan Chief.

"You knew that the Hokage wanted you to follow us?"

"Maybe. This black and blue carrier bird dropped off an extra map in Minato's room, right after he'd left. It nearly pecked my finger off when I tried to get it off its leg. I swear it sucks blood."

That was… unexpected. She knew the colors of the Hokage's personal messenger bird, a blue-feathered raven. It also raised questions as to her connection with Namikaze Minato. Dragon was skeptical of Danzo's choice to not stop her, obviously a foreign kunoichi, from following them at a large distance—large enough that neither of the other two conscious men on his team knew about the extra backup the Hokage had… allowed.

The faint echo of chatter carried down the halls, the accented syllables ricocheting across the stone walls and revealing the speakers to be Kumo nin. Dragon nodded at the strange red-haired girl, and she returned with a look of comprehension.

Whatever questions lingered, now was not the time.

"Are we almost there?" Kushina demanded, without much bite in her voice.

The senior ANBU nodded tersely, preoccupied with mapping out the twists and turns they were taking.

A few more winding steps, and they would be there. Dragon's nickname was not only for show, but even he admitted it was a bit of a misnomer. The assignment officer meant to name him Serpent, for his ability to navigate maze-like tunnels underground, but the nickname was already taken by someone who was under the Sandaime's best student, Orochimaru's, protection. Soon enough, the thick, dark cavern opened up in front of them, the faint glow of the seal almost indiscernible as more of the light beyond the tunnel filtered through. The footsteps behind them retreated, but neither Dragon nor Kushina breathed a sigh of relief. Who knew when they would be back.

"This is it?"

"Hn."

Kushina reached out a hand as if to touch the seal, to examine it. Dragon stepped in front of her, obstructing her view of the symbol. She frowned in response.

"This is a mass-based seal. There's only room for one," he explained. "I was going to just send Hizashi's body over to Konoha, but now that he's a scroll, I will deliver him personally."

Dragon turned his back to her, in order to release the transport seal. Just as his fingers grazed the seal and it hummed to life at the human touch, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

"You're leaving Sunshine?"

Dragon looked back, almost in surprise at what he realized was probably her nickname for Konoha's Yellow Flash. It wasn't a question, but it was almost like an accusation. Kushina's face was twisted, dawning in comprehension and berating her own lingering naïveté.

"You figured it out, Sweetheart." Dragon acknowledged her pale face. "This is a test."

She looked a bit dazed, and Dragon almost felt pity for the young thing. Almost. What had she expected? He hadn't been a shinobi for so many years due to coddling and luck.

"This is planned? By _who_—your Hokage?"

The questions were beginning to tire him. "Not exactly like this, but yes."

Suddenly, a shuriken streaked by them both, and hit with a dull thud the wall two inches from the spot on the wall where the transport seal was now faintly glowing.

_Ah._ So the Kumo search team was finally here. No, scratch that thought. They'd probably been watching them all along, Dragon realized. Well, it was too bad for them, because they were too late.

Dragon muttered the safe-words under his breath, to let the code know he was not an enemy nin attempting to crack the seal. After a brief moment, he turned back to the intriguing red-haired girl.

"Stay alive, little Uzumaki. I rather enjoyed our banter," Dragon said, faintly amused by her livid expression.

He activated the transport mechanism. In a rush of wind and space-time jutsu, the senior ANBU was being transported back to Konohagakure, Hyuga Hizashi in tow. He saw a flood of Kumo nin materialize from the grim stone walls, their faces dark and mouths open with shouts of anger.

What he didn't see was her frown turn into a hard, jagged snarl as Kushina's grey eyes suddenly became a scorching, molten gold.

.

.

.

Danzou watched as the paper indicator of the transport seal burned a deep brown. It had been used. Things were falling into place now, finally.

His hand dipped his writing brush into the ink once more, and then moved across an unfinished document to flick satisfying over the final character of the name.

"Ready the Council."

An ANBU materialized into the room.

"Yes, Hokage-sama."

"I'm submitting this report for the emergency meeting."

The Yondaime swiped the black, dripping ink across the rag, before depositing the calligraphy brush back into its ebony case.

His black-clothed attendant bowed low, ready to deliver the sealed black scroll. After he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the Yondaime sat back in his chair, shrewd eyes misting over.

"It's time," Danzou said to the portrait of the Sandaime, whose painted face had no response. "You would have made him Hokage, Sarutobi… I will make him even more powerful. Konoha hasn't had a useful missing nin this young since… ever."

.

.

.


End file.
